Seeing past the subject (2)

I wrote an article some time ago on the value of using famous faces in your portfolio.

tl;dr: celebrity shoots are shorthand for access, big campaigns or notable clients. In other words, a middling photo of an A-lister may have more impact than a good photo of an unknown person.

I wanted to follow up with some comments and rules on this perilous practice, because it is a recipe with a strict “use by” date. Celebrity photos age quickly. And badly. You need regular and fresh produce, and more so in the age of Instagram. Because - regardless of whether the person stays famous or fades into obscurity - without new material to update and replace one’s portfolio, the march of time leads to the same interpretation: your most up to date celebrity shoot was too long ago. I’m assured by colleagues that in all other respects one’s portfolio need not change, and keeping old photos is fine: this consideration only applies to photographers cashing in by using famous faces on their websites. You’re tied into a constant game of catch-up, but that's the price you pay for trading in the currency of currency.

Here are the rules:

A-Listers: You can keep them for around a decade in your portfolio. Just make sure they're still recognisable.

B-Listers: Remove/update after 5-7 years.

Reality TV stars: Remove after 3-5 years.

Influencers: Check if they’re still famous every 1-2 years.

People who appear on Christmas pantomime posters at train stations, if they have an accompanying line reminding you where you’ve seen them before e.g. “… from The Bill”: No.

Niche favourites: These are podcasters, TikTok stars etc. who have the envious position of being A-listers to those who know them, but otherwise aren’t widely recognised in public - so don’t count as celebrity, and therefore can be used indefinitely.

Political and Historical Figures: These shots are like vintage wine and can remain in your portfolio indefinitely, as long as you have a collection of similar images. One photo of Nelson Mandela won’t work - it’s just a lucky commission. You need Margaret Thatcher, Bob Geldof and Freddie Mercury to complete the set, and so establish yourself as someone who’s really been around.

Living legends: There are only a few of these but you can trade on them on your website forever. Ideally, place them on your homepage and bring them up in conversation regularly. They include people like David Attenborough, Helen Mirren, Christopher Walken and Stephen Fry.

The exception to the rule is if you have more than twelve famous faces, in which case you’re a regular at this - perhaps even a celeb photographer - and don’t need to remove any old photos ever, on the condition that you must keep adding.

Next time I’ll talk about why portfolios containing two pictures from the same shoot should result in a prison sentence.

Will AI do me out of a job?

Photographers are periodically under threat as each wave of technology renders various specialisms obsolete.

I was told when I went freelance there was no future because of “digital”. While that’s not been the case, it did kill news (with the help of the other horsemen: the internet, stock photography*, and pestilence).

But certainly the relentless advance of Photoshop, the iPhone, technical automation and instant communication can be punishing to an industry, and frustratingly so when combined with the inherent lack of understanding that goes along with its mass market audience.

And now AI.

The fear is not that it will do the creatives’ job for them - clearly this is nonsense. If there is one, it’s in the same Faustian pact threatened by the (currently bland) utterances of ChatGPT: anything which can be automated - and automated well - will, at first, free up creatives’ time and energy. But in exchange, and quickly after, there will be less need for those creatives. To put it another way, not everything I do in the course of a project is specialised, difficult or skilled labour. And when that’s taken out of my hands, there’s imbalance.

One-eyed Fletch, taken just now to illustrate what a good boy he is.

But let’s go back a bit. I can’t publish what I said when I tested my Canon R6 for the first time two years ago, but let’s just say its eye-tracking technology was game-changing. Out of the box, my first test photos were of one of my cats, Fletch, sitting six feet away in front of a glowing fire in an otherwise dark room. And every single frame was sharp. My previous camera would never have achieved this. I should add he only has one eye, and the camera found it. (I don’t even bother checking sharpness any more.)

And I won’t bore you with recent advances in Photoshop and Lightroom, but will just say that many things which may have taken a couple of (boring) minutes just a couple of years ago can now be done in a few seconds, thanks to AI.

But as I’ve suggested, easier for me means easier for everyone. So at least in some areas, what I can bring to the table in terms of skills and experience is gradually reduced, as we all level up. Part of my time from every job is spent assessing and selecting images. There are now apps that can check sharpness, composition and blinks, and do this for me. I know a dozen ways to mask out hair, but that hard-earned knowledge is less and less useful with every incremental update to Photoshop’s “refine hair” tool. And shooting with (my current overuse of) a very shallow depth of field with my expensive 50mm lens - unthinkable before my (also expensive) R6 - is more and more convincingly achieved with my iPhone’s “portrait mode”.

None of this is new of course. Technology improves. But just as with the text-based AI’s, we’re way beyond autocorrect here. Not for the first time, I couldn’t tell if a photographer was joking or not when he posted on my forum a few weeks ago that he was considering ditching his gear and using an iPhone. So aside from the usual concerns about the mixed blessings of hardware / software updates (which improve results) and automation (which speeds up post-production), we’re now reaching a very different point, where you can create work with minimal input or understanding. You don’t even need to to own a camera.

So there’s that.

I based most of the prompts on my current headshot

But what about the results themselves? How good are the images that the AI’s can generate? Why should I worry about creeping AI indirectly affecting my livelihood, if it can just smash through the front door by actually making images, and doing a better job at the same time**?

Let’s consider portraits, and corporate portraiture, in particular (interestingly, the latter is an area which has massively grown because of digital, since every company needs a website, and often an “About Us” page). I’m interested to see if AI touches on my commissioned work directly: going back to the original “nonsense” concern, if we can just describe a person and get an image, then why use a photographer at all? Will we get to the day where, say, HR could ask for temporary access to a staff member’s Facebook or phone photos, pull out recent images, and use them to generate professional-looking headshots in the house style in a matter of minutes?

I had a go with DALL-E, midjourney and Stable Diffusion. Using a source image of myself, taken by me, I used various prompts including “corporate portrait”, “professional”, “headshot”, “in the style of Alex Rumford”, and “photorealistic” to generate new images. Would they resemble me accurately?

No. Not even slightly.

Which was a relief.

The more available images there are online, the better the results (for instance Beyoncé), but currently - when uploading - midjourney (which seemed to be the best tool for this) allows only two. And combining two images didn’t change things much.

Secondary images (left by the brilliant @docubyte)

Even playing around with the sliders and prompts the results were, at best, approximations for a better version of me. Results were slightly cartoonish, “Americanised” (presumably because most source material is from the US?), and almost always better-looking.

There’s been a lot written about AI bias, but it’s interesting to see results are akin to a Snapchat filter. It has the disappointing effect of feeling less descriptive (“this is what I think you would look like”) than it does prescriptive (“this is how you should look, ugly”). It’s depressing enough thinking about the negative effects of existing in-phone editing software which makes noses smaller and eyes larger, skin smoother and lips fuller.

I’m only guessing, but this “beauty ideal” in AI would presumably be from the influence of the more photogenic members of society (actors, models, perhaps even stock image models) whose appearance would make up a large percentage of the millions of source material portraits, and so influence the output.

The first set, which had a decent variation, had minimal prompts.

The faces on #1 and #3 could pass as photographs, but the shirts and collars look drawn); #2 and #4 have slightly unusual cheekbones. #4 has a glint in the eye, which is interesting.

Looking at #3, it’s slightly Pixar-cartoonish (and are the eyes quite right?)

This time with a jacket. #4 looks the most realistic. Again, none look like me.

Wider shots, with the subject being smaller, could be more forgiving with facial features (#3).

This set was generated with no word prompts, just two source images. They’re consistent, but, alas, consistently not close to the originals.

There’s a lot of talk about bias in AI: a key prompt here was “friendly” and the results are decidedly more feminine.

Again without the “corporate” prompt, there’s a lot more variation in this set.

So it’s a way off, yet. And while there are options to further refine / create variations and possibly improve results, none of these originals was close enough for this to be worth trying. And to be clear: the primary goal here is photographic realism. If you like, there are of course plenty of options for interesting filters or styles one could apply to your LinkedIn portrait which aren’t photography at all (I recently saw a really effective set on a website (presumably architects or graphic designers) which had a clear Julian Opie look to them). But if an image is meant to be realistic, it has to look exactly like you.

You’ll note that I’ve smuggled in the assumption that a corporate portrait’s main purpose is merely to describe appearance. Which it isn’t. That’s a passport or the badge ID you’re thinking of. A portrait - yes, even the humble corporate headshot - needs to say something about the subject. Actually (in theory, at least) the mood / expression in a plain shot on a white background therefore has to count for more than a full-length environmental portrait (where clothes, surroundings and lighting help do the work for a more unique and interesting shot). That’s to say, the more easily something can be copied and regenerated, the more bland it would have to become. But I could be overstating this, and the market wouldn’t care: a free image which takes minimal effort and minutes to produce and remains pretty neutral will usually be preferable to a far more costly photograph which ‘says’ something.

And what about environmental portraiture? The below examples are extrapolated from the headshot, and are mostly awful (thankfully).

With just a headshot, the prompt here was “half-length, wearing a grey long-sleeved t-shirt, standing in a modern office.” #3 isn’t too bad, but the others aren’t anywhere near realistic enough to be photos, nor are they stylised enough to be anything else.

Stability AI (in DreamStudio) has the option of using data from (whilst keeping) an existing image to extend it. In another attempt (not shown here) I had it work on the source image at the same time, but it immediately looked less like me. #4 is the only one which nearly works. Perhaps a couple more iterations might something passable.

Starting with just a headshot, this is from DALL-E and took a couple of minutes to build. The description was, “Man in a long-sleeved grey t-shirt in front of a plain office background.” A few minutes further in photoshop and this could be passable.

Perhaps it’s just not what AI is good at. While so much of the concept art is truly brilliant, and some of it realistic, my first impressions are that it’s not directly a threat to portrait photography.

But I’ll check back again in six months.

*Stock photography is a zombie. It’s dead, yet it continues to feed by killing off potential commissions.

**I’m told that the effect of AI is already felt directly, or is soon to be, in photographic areas including automotive, fashion e-commerce, interiors and still life / products. I do a lot of portraits, and even if they can’t be done by AI, market forces mean that if other genres’ photographers’ work is reduced, it makes sense for them to move in on my patch (the positive term is “diversifying”…) in the same way that PR photographers had to move into weddings when the ex-press photographers joined their ranks, en masse, a decade ago. Leading to the question: where to go next? What genres will be safe tomorrow in an industry entirely based around technology?)

Freelance life and other animals

This post is a rambling set of tangents roughly based around what it means to be a freelancer: how I got here from starting out in press, and aspects of being self-employed that I’d never have considered. There’s an exciting part where I nearly get beaten up, and some comments about the death of news photography. There are thoughts about personal development and being one’s own boss. There’s a sad bit where I explain why I don’t go to Christmas parties. And some other thoughts. That’s it. No animals were involved, so apologies for the clickbait. Also, all the photos are very old. I umm’d and err’d about posting them (because, you know, brand) but which I decided to go ahead because in each caption I remind you that they’re old.

Background: I’ve been freelance for about 15 years, but I started out at the Derby Evening Telegraph as a trainee, part-way through my NCTJ qualification in Sheffield. We had seven full-time photographers and three people running things from the picture desk, as well as a few occasional freelancers. There was also a sports department, a features department, advertising, news desk, property, subs, motoring, and others. The newspaper was in its very own building with a car park, a printing press and a restaurant. This was when regional press photography was a skilled*, qualified profession.

Not now.

For a start, the job at a regional / local level no longer exists (I understand the DET staff is comprised of just three reporters, who work from home. If I’m mistaken, please correct me in the comments. Which I’ve turned off).

Press photography was about problem-solving under pressure, across a wide variety of subjects: hard news, sport, portraiture and events, all on deadline. From a house fire to an Ofsted report, a court snatch to a fashion show, a charity fundraising appeal to a murder, all in a day. The press photographer’s job was working out how to best to answer the question, “What’s the story?” in an engaging way. Now, I expect it would be rather closer to Lenny’s portrayal in After Life.

The definitive press photo, in that you should be able to deduce the story without any further information.

The dreaded “court snatch”. You’d have to go and wait outside the Crown court or (here) the magistrates’ court, and take a photo of the person involved in some or other case. Sometimes you’d have a clear description, such as “Female, aged 24, with one leg,” but more often than not you’d photograph everyone going in, and then ID them later in court. You could be there for an hour or more, offending everyone going into the building. Many people don’t take kindly to being ‘papped’, and those who have an appointment with our legal system on a rainy Tuesday tend to be the type to make their feelings clear. I was threatened with violence on a few occasions, often by those shortly about to face a judge specifically because of their violence. But it sold newspapers.

It wasn’t all exciting - far from it - but on the dull shoots things could be even more pressured. Because with less to work with, you had to think harder in order to make something interesting. And some jobs were, of course, repetitive (especially in the news cycle), but each time you found yourself back in the same place, or in a similar situation, or covering a similar story, it was another chance to do better. And this opportunity would create a shortcut to your thought process: your starting point would be where you’d ended up last time, yet you wouldn’t want to repeat exactly what you did before. You’d remember what didn’t work and what did, and would refine your approach. When you’d photographed Shrovetide football, a grieving mother, a court snatch, or someone complaining about roadworks (the epitome of press photography?) for the third time, you knew how to do it. To put it another way, there are certain ways to shoot certain things**.

Shrovetide football, held annually in Ashbourne. Violent and dangerous, the game has been played for hundreds of years and goes on for two days. It’s characterised by long periods of inaction as a giant scrum forms over the ball, suddenly pops up, is caught, a flurry of movement, then that person is mauled before a new scrum is formed over their battered body. Sometimes, someone gets free with the ball and runs to the goal - one or other side of town - but usually regrets their moment of glory after just a few seconds. Murder is strictly prohibited, but otherwise there aren’t a lot of rules. Anyway, the shot is almost invariably hands, faces and ball (essential) so get up high, be patient but be ready (and be very sure you’ve parked very far away, as anything in the way of the scrum gets trashed).

Regular football. It’s not as bad as cricket but that’s about the best thing I can say.

Anyway, as well as the variety of work, the best part was having your colleagues critique what you’d done as it appeared in the morning edition (whether you’d like it or not). Tips, experiences and knowledge were fuel and motivation for the next day - when you’d normally end up doing a bunch of completely different shoots.

In 2005, cuts were starting to taking place as newspapers’ income declined. It used to be that people would sell their house / car / dining-room table through the newspaper. There were ads for local tradespeople, dating ads and vouchers. Advertising revenues dwindled and then plummeted as people started to do all this online. And newspapers’ (usually free) online editions meant you needn’t actually buy a copy any longer. Photographers were one of the first to become expendable, as a low-quality submitted image of an RTA - which cost nothing - would beat a professional shot from a nearby bridge 20 minutes later. (People would, and still do, send in their images of snow or car crashes to mainstream media in the hope of five minutes of fame or perhaps with a sense of public duty, not realising the true value of their submission and seemingly oblivious that they’re dealing with/supporting multi-million pound industries who, incidentally, charge them to subscribe!)

After a few years I went to the Bristol Evening Post. Already a smaller team than it had once been, we were encouraged to work remotely, sending in images wirelessly. This was more productive and therefore more economical, but a drawback (for me, at least) was far less of the over-the-shoulder commentary I relied on to learn. I left after a year - the salary was a joke, I felt I wasn’t improving, and the writing was on the wall anyway. Staff who had left (across many departments) weren’t being replaced: I remember noticing I never needed to search for a car parking space under the building. I heard that just a few years later they sacked all the remaining photographers one Monday morning. And so, as I understand it, regional and local press photography is no longer a thing at all. There’s still the national press and various news agencies around the country, but I understand few of these are staff positions. And there are, of course, many other routes and backgrounds into professional photography, all with their own style and skillset. But press was a bit of everything. Front-line, messy and unforgiving, but also exciting and stressful, with moments of compassion and connection, and creativity***.

An old photo of a netball team who presumably won a competition. This was the second time I’d tried this noughts and crosses thing, and looking back all these years later (it’s an old photo) the idea still stands. Four girls and five netballs might be a better composition (because threes), but it would have been harsh to get rid of half the team for a better photo. As it is, a bit of tidying up the symmetry / lines and this would have been brilliant. It’s an old photo.

And so onto freelancing: press photography led nicely into PR photography - both are about telling stories - so that’s where I started.

The day-to-day is of course very different, but I won’t go into details here, concerned as it is with captioning, file storage, invoicing, finding clients, lens couriers, and bank holidays. There are other considerations which you don’t think about and are more interesting, or at least of equal importance. Many apply to many freelancing roles and not just photography, and certainly those who now work from home may be able to relate. So I thought I’d list a few of these observations.

For a portrait of this card-shop owner, I stole this idea outright from my truly gifted colleague Ben (who, as far as I know, actually came up with all his ideas). At the risk of massively oversimplify things, I’ll state that there are only ten basic ideas (here we have ‘framing’ and the ‘look-down’), and therefore it follows that by repetition, it’s impossible not to notice improvements.

Feedback is, I think, the biggest difference. I mentioned this earlier and know that it’s a similar issue now for many industries, with younger staff working from home. But entirely on your own, where feedback can be limited, means you’re in a bubble of one. Are you improving? Could you have done better, there? Thankfully, I’m on online forums where I can ask anything - technique to technical - and someone will help. And the range of backgrounds and skills there is extremely broad, and utterly invaluable, and has saved me on many occasions. But the hive mind is only plugged into when you’re looking for experience in a seemingly grey area of copyright law, or need contact details on fixers in Dubrovnik, or opinions on the latest AI software and its implications. It’s not the same thing as the (often harsh) daily dissection of what you shot, what you missed, and what you should have done differently on the only thing that really matters in the end: the picture.

There is, however, a different way you track your progress, and I alluded to it earlier. Press jobs would - literally - repeat, and colleagues would critique. While I don’t have these tolls for improvement, I do have repeat clients. They each commission a certain kind of work, and each have their own requirements or features. So inevitably I find myself working in similar ways on each occasion and I can compare, if not with the previous efforts, at least with past years’. And I can compare with photos in which I’ve use a similar idea (as with the examples of the chef and the card shop owner).

Moving on. Freelancing brings to mind the phrase, “You’re your own boss,” but I think it’s a misleading idea. As a freelance, you simply have a different boss for every job, with different requirements and a different relationship with each. If anything, you’re more like your HR, and - ugh - accounts. While there is undeniable freedom with one’s approach, working style and expectations (and therefore a fluid, creative, energetic and varied “work culture”, client to client) ultimately the work has to get done on time, on budget, to the best of one’s abilities. Same as for anyone. There’s no difference to being on staff as the demands are still on you, except that it’s often you alone. Failure won't result in a dressing down and another chance: it means you lose a client.

Further, there’s the picture editor’s adage: “I don’t want excuses, I want pictures!” usually as they hang up the phone. On my portrait shoot today, I had 30 minutes to set up but there was nothing to work with in the space I was given. Photography is one of those jobs where your imagination is the only limitation, and therefore the possibilities are both endless and mostly impossible to consider, and disregarded as we go down certain avenues of thought to reach the end, to get to the photo. It’s a sandbox profession in that, beforehand, I could have done (or rather, tried to do) anything I needed to make the picture work. From moving furniture, to blagging a better room, to asking someone if I could borrow their red jacket, or to see if I could find the owner of the expensive car parked outside***. The point is that I probably won’t ever meet the person who commissioned me, and they don’t know or care what I’d need to do to tell the story. That is to say, sometimes you’re completely on your own, and it’s scary when your career depends on it. Sometimes the work is easy, of course, but they’re never the interesting or memorable shoots.

And then there are meetings: I very rarely have to go to them. Surely that’s the best thing about freelancing. At least, I’m told over and over that this is a good thing. But I’m not sure. Because - on a serious note - with no colleagues, nobody really cares about my weekend or if I’m going on holiday. I don’t have Friday drinks, nor will I be invited to a Christmas party (I’m not crying. You’re crying.) It can be quite a lonely work life. And so, I think a meeting would be just lovely. And in the same way, regarding professional development, I’ve said that I no longer get much informed, critical feedback. And this is a very real consideration, as it can be hard to know what I need to work on. And certainly I’ve never a 360 degree appraisal. One of these, followed by a meeting with biscuits, sounds like heaven.

And here we have ‘framing’ and the ‘look-up’ - so, basically the same picture as the card-shop. This is standard press photography fare whenever you photograph a chef, someone emptying a bin, or even a dentist (really). For the chef version, just ensure the pot is empty before climbing in.

Obvious but it needs repeating: unlike employment, if you have a day off, it’s unpaid. Also, no sick pay, no holiday pay. Obviously. And no bonuses. And nobody will care when I retire (again, I’m not crying. You’re crying). But actually, the hardest one of all is that there are no promotions. As we’ve already covered, there is no clear progression to look back on, or forward to, nor any recognition of one’s experience.

Technology affects the employed and freelancers alike, and is of course double-edged. Improvements in camera technology and editing tools make work easier; and results more reliable and faster. If I’m concerned, it would be on the threat to photographers specifically, because now there’s less need to understand the what’s and why’s. Many of the things for which I worked hard to learn yesterday are automated with a single click today. I’m sure every generation feels that the next is less skilful and knowledgeable, that the barriers to entry are lower with each new update; but can we agree that the compound, multiplying pace of development is hard to keep up with? And so in practical terms, it’s just getting easier to produce decent results from poor ingredients (a.k.a. “good enough”). The result is that at some point one might begin questioning exactly what one can offer as a professional. As a freelance, it’s then up to you to learn other skills or offer new services - itself nothing new - but you have to work this out for yourself, and hope that these skills will remain relevant. Many freelancers go into drone photography, video, weddings, assisting or teaching.

Freelance or not, as an aside, photographers have to deal with the significant number who believe that a big camera means good pictures, which can be rather demeaning. Misunderstandings about any profession are quite normal of course, but as everyone takes pictures, everyone has an opinion. I’ve met a few people who are clearly stunned when they learn I make a living from it: “How’s the (actual finger quotes) “photography” going?” they ask.

Finally, I was never told about the positive feeling that would come with any booking, any enquiry. A new client means there’s been a recommendation somewhere. A repeat booking means a happy client. And for these, you’re forging a relationship built on shared goals, and it’s in a different space, far outside office politics. I’d go further still: for the more creative work, to have a client want to go with your style and approach - well, that’s really something. But in general it’s so liberating to be treated as an expert and left to use one’s judgment and experience entirely. And there’s nothing quite like the feeling of nailing a photo, especially on the occasions where you’re making something out of nothing. And if it’s all on you when things go wrong, then it’s only fair to take credit when you get it right. Also, win or lose, you’re always improving: you can’t help not be.

One final, final note: some people think you’re an artist. Although I’m not, I don’t mind being thought of as one.

*Others were skilled, like my former colleague Jane. Me, not so much.

**This idea is actually very important, but so tangential that it needs its own blog post (at a later date).

***Moving furniture is about as creative as I go.

Gratitudes

Once a week or so, usually over dinner, we “do gratitudes”. I got the idea from positive psychologist advocate Shawn Achor some years ago: simply list three things from that day for which you’re grateful.

It’s easy to whinge: we can reel off our disappointments, complaints and regrets without difficulty, and we do so regularly. But thinking about the positive things we’ve encountered during the day can be hard.

By changing our focus, the aim is to change our perspective on the same reality, highlighting the good moments we’ve had, or even finding something useful or fulfilling in an experience which we’d otherwise label as entirely negative. It can turn things around, and indeed Shawn recommends doing it especially when you’ve had an awful day, when you just want to be angry, flat or tired.

Things are awful at the moment for so many people. It can be almost impossible to see very much to be grateful for in an otherwise largely bleak situation. It occurred to me that for the past several months, I’ve hardly taken a single photo for myself. And this can’t be a coincidence.

Normally, I take pictures all the time - or, at least, I go through regular phases. But I’ve barely noticed anything since March, or not cared enough to shoot it when I have seen something.

Beach trees. One of the few images I’ve taken over the past year. It reminds me of Stanley Donwood.

Of the shots I would normally take, I only keep a small number. And only a few of these I upload to my Instagram (look for the weird abstract ones, sitting amongst the portraits and other commissioned work). As I say, I don’t show all of them: most just aren’t very good. I take them for the pleasure of the moment, and then forget about them. I put the ‘best’ ones on Instagram*. I enjoy it.

I think my lack of interest of late is uncharacteristic, and it means I’m disengaged.

When I’m feeling engaged, I’m able - with an easy change in attention as I go about my day - to look for these details, lines, shapes, reflections, and tones. Looking - really looking - is an exercise in itself, even without taking a photo. And this type of (usually abstract) photography is precisely not about having interesting subject matter, or models, or lighting, or storytelling. No schedule or deadline. It’s simply playing with the language of photography, devoid of context, at one’s own leisure. So, a mix of colours here. A hard shadow there. As I’ve said elsewhere, it’s often about physical objects as purely visual objects. Matter plus light.

These elements are literally everywhere, and we all have cameras. It’s about appreciating the world around, if not as something beautiful, at least as something visual. I think that taking pictures for ourselves - with no audience in mind, and no other purpose than simple pleasure - is another way to express gratitudes. It’s the photographic equivalent of listing what we’re grateful for, what we see. To express them, visually.

It’s quiet at the moment, but I’ll be allowing myself some time off this week to go and take some photos for myself. After yesterday’s World Mental Health Day, and with possible further isolation likely, my small suggestion is that you could try the same.

Ceiling corner.

I’ve covered my general approach in older blog posts, but otherwise, to get you started, here’s how to do it:

• Allow yourself 30 minutes’ shooting time.

• Choose two of (say) the following: colour, shape, pattern, shadow, detail. Your location and the weather will help determine which. So if it’s cloudy, you’d have to work hard / get lucky to get images which are about shadow, as in the image above of the ceiling corner. If you’re near an outdoor market, then looking for details (ie close-ups) should yield some good results. If you’re in the countryside, photos about colour might be limited to flowers.

• How do you know what to look for? Whatever catches your eye. By definition, it has moved you. And so it follows there may be something in it. You know when you see it. It’s about learning how to really pay attention to how things actually appear, how things are devoid of their function and context, and our own assumptions. Here’s the relevant link again in case you missed it before.

There are often photos to be had with graffiti (and the work’s 95% done for you). Picking an interesting part of the artwork and taking it out of context is the necessary step.

• If you’re struggling to see anything interesting, remember there are often ‘fallback’ images to look for. Close ups of fruit. Reflections in puddles. The symmetry of flowers, shot from just above.

• If you’re still struggling, limit yourself further. Just look for things that are red. Or diagonal lines. Or graffiti.

• Once you’ve found a subject, then it’s onto problem solving. A quick snap won’t do it - you have to capture the essence of the thing you noticed.

• How? That’s the question. But start by working around the subject. Get low, high, close, far. Change the composition, or what elements are in the frame. Find the most direct way to show what you’re seeing: it should feel like work, and challenge you. It’s a process, not a single event. And to shortcut this process, keep in mind that very often, less is more with this kind of photography. Which tends to mean getting close, taking elements out their context. Actually, if you are using a phone, it has quite a wide angle of view. So you’ll likely need to get in close anyway, to remove distractions from the edges of the frame.

With abstract photography, it’s irritating when we try to guess what something is. It misses the point. However, with these sorts of shots, I often think in terms of what something looks like, and that shapes my approach.

• Take at least three or four shots per situation, and allow yourself no more than a minute or two. Then move on.

• If you can, perhaps meet with a friend for a coffee beforehand, go off your separate ways for the activity, and then reconvene to compare your results.

• Maybe you’re not feeling it and you can’t ‘see’ anything. Maybe you’re not enjoying it, or your friend’s photos are way better than yours. That’s fine. You’ve had some exercise, you’ve had some fresh air. And that’s enough.

Give it a go - it might help!

*Actually, sometimes I almost wish I didn’t put any on IG, and shot just for the enjoyment of the moment and for nothing else. There’s a part of me that critiques them hard in the moment, with an audience in mind. I suppose, yes, this does also serve to make me look/work/think a little more, rather than have me just taking snaps. It also might delay gratification until later - the joy of a more polished, considered photo which others can enjoy.

Headshots: why we need them, and why we don't like them

Why do we need a headshot?

At a very basic level, it’s identification: age, sex, appearance. Something to stick on an office ID swipe card, but taken nicely, perhaps.

Yes - but it’s much more. More than just a first impression, it’s a personal statement. It’s branding. Like it or not, it suggests information about us, both personally and professionally. We make judgments based on how someone looks. Not just how someone dresses, but the very shape of their face, even the colour and style of their hair.

Why don’t we like our own photos?

One obvious answer, of course, is the increasing ubiquity for many years, and throughout our culture, of ‘perfection’, or at least the importance of one’s appearance fitting a certain standard. And for some time it hasn’t been solely in magazines, films and on billboards. Every day, people look better than they do on Instagram, to name just one platform. On our phones, post-processing algorithms for a smoother, thinner, brighter whatever are now automatically, immediately applied whenever we press the shutter. We don’t even have a choice. A computer is telling us that we could be, and should be, better looking. Maybe that’s true in your case, I don’t know.

The theory I prefer is to do with our faces being asymmetrical. When we look in the mirror, as we do every time we leave the house, our left is on our left. But for anyone who meets us and - crucially - in any photograph of us, will have our left on the right, and vice versa. That is, whenever we look at our own image, it’s not the same as that which we see in the mirror. Hence we’re uneasy about it. There’s a wonderful, thought-provoking series by Alex John Beck where he makes symmetrical portraits from each half of a face, raising questions of beauty and identity. And there are apocryphal stories of clients complaining to photographers that the photos from their session are no good. The photographer sends the set over again, but flipped 180°, and gets the frustrated response, “These ones are much better! Why didn’t you send them the first time?”

And there’s also the process itself. You have an allocated time slot in a production line. It’s reminiscent of tedious school portraits, but instead of idling one’s time away from double maths, it’s over a deadline, or it’s a meeting being interrupted. Most often in a conference room filled with studio lights, and expectations to smile for a stranger. Knowing our new photo could be the corporate portrait we have to use for the next several years.

So how can we get the most from it?

Let’s start with a few pointers:

• Get your hair cut a few days before.

• Wear simple, comfortable clothes - nothing too busy or colourful - and make sure they’re ironed. Ideally nothing bright white (this usually doesn’t work on a standard white background for a standard headshot) - or at least wear a jacket. Equally, jet black can look severe.

• Arrive at the session a few minutes early. Being late knocks on for everyone after, and means you have less time. More time equals more options, as well as an opportunity to relax into the session.

• It’s natural to be self-conscious. It means you care about the result, and how you look.

• Ask to see a few of the photos as you go. There may be an angle you prefer, or your necklace may be too much, or you may feel you look too serious etc. At the very least you'‘ll feel confident in the photographer, and that these are so much better than you thought they’d be.

• Don’t fret about anything temporary eg. blemishes, tired eyes. Anything which wouldn’t be there in a fortnight, or after a good night’s sleep, will be taken care of in post-production.

• Nearly everyone has something they don’t like about themselves: this is not the time to focus on it. And it’s true to say that nobody else notices it, or cares very much. Remember, the photographer, your colleagues - everyone - wants you to look your best. You owe it to yourself to make the most from the session with a positive attitude.

  What do you want to show?

  With those basic tips out of the way, the purpose of corporate portraiture is to convey your positive attributes. It’s much more than the binary smiling/not smiling (equating to friendly/serious). Here’s a list of some of the more common traits we might wish to use to describe ourselves:

  adaptable · confident · creative · determined · direct · educated · experienced · energetic · enthusiastic · good communicator · intelligent · kind · leadership · open · proactive · patient · personable · relaxed · reliable · team-player · thorough · well-rounded

  The first thing to say is that you can’t convey any of these attributes - not one - in a photo. The idea is nonsense.

  So, how do we show them?

  Well, what is our language? It’s the background, composition, the lighting and clothing. Gesture, expression and pose. It’s body language (there’s a clue in the phrase), and, of course, it’s the eyes. While they can’t directly translate adjectives, they can suggest them, or talk around them. Picking up where language ends, and taking over where words are insufficient.

  Where there is correlation, I’d concede only that a photo could point to the most obvious characteristics. A smile means friendly; a suit and tie implies corporate; hair up suggests business (hair down, casual) etc.

  Secondly, while it is certainly more than just a choice between friendly or serious, let’s not overstate how specific we can be. The example adjectives listed above overlap with others, and some are, effectively, synonyms eg ‘confident’ looks the same as, or could be read as, ‘experienced’, say. Furthermore, some characteristics (eg team-player, well-travelled) couldn’t apply at all in a photo; they can’t be interpreted from an expression.

  So take your list of characteristics, and pick two.

  Remember: not every attribute is desirable. One’s sector, role and experience will determine key values. A graphic designer might want to appear creative; a therapist, a good listener. A law firm wouldn’t value skills relevant to a school, and neither would want the same as, say, an advertising agency. Sometimes, the same qualities apply to each end of the spectrum: a CEO and a graduate might both wish to show experience and energy, but for different reasons. All this is so obvious as to be barely worth mentioning, except as to highlight the point that you can’t - and wouldn’t want to be - everything.

  You can choose warm and personable. But you can’t (in the same photo, at least) be direct and no-nonsense. As CEO, do you want to appear as a leader, or one who listens and collaborates? Does an influencer want to portray gravitas, or quirkiness? Is it better to emphasise enthusiasm (associated with youth) at a cost of experience (associated with age)?

  Choosing your image

  When the unedited options come back, it’s usually worth asking colleagues their opinions, but ultimately you choose what you want to convey and which option does it best. Doing so, you need to keep in mind how you come across in person, and/or how you’d like to be perceived. You select the photo which will reinforce this brand image. Or, in rare instances, the one which changes it.

  In the end, most people just want to look their best. But it’s not a hard question of taking the most professional-looking image and putting it up against the most flattering one. No - they’re usually the same photo. That is, the most professional image is the most flattering, because conveying those attributes makes it so.

  If you need a new corporate portrait for your website or LinkedIn, get in touch.You can see examples of my work here.

Afterword / Corporate self-portraiture (three)

It’s hard to espouse the importance of a headshot when you don’t have one. I wrote the piece, then reflected that I’ve not been using a photograph of me on my “about” page for about two years. The only shot of me I like, and had been using, was taken nine years ago, My attempts since (the first is here, second is here) didn’t quite work, and weren’t much used. It was time for a new photo.

My original headshot, which was getting old. Shot by my extremely talented friend James, this covered everything I’d want to convey, along the lines of creative/artistic and experienced/capable.

So I started with a similar setup this time around - but, as I’ve said before, it’s very hard to photograph yourself. Where James’ original shot had a lovely balance of simplicity, dramatic lighting, and capturing a natural expression, this felt forced throughout.

I then simplified the setup, shot about 30 frames, and ended up with this, which is what I’m going with. Mostly this uses soft window light, and I opted for a brighter background and top, hence less drama but something more natural. It’s not perfect but it’ll do.

From the archives - seven

Portfolio woes

Making a portfolio is easy: you start with the images you like, and from there select those which best represent you.

You then remove shots with a similar style or subject matter. Ditch any which don’t sit well with the rest of the gallery, and those which will date badly. Delete ‘one-note’ images eg portraits which solely rely on a subject’s celebrity status; fisheye shots; basic silhouettes. Get rid of generic, broad images which have no discernible or unique style. But equally, consider setting aside highly-stylised images (as these risk defining your abilities too narrowly). Finally, dump any you’re not quite sure of.

If you have anything left, that’s your portfolio.

This was from my very first portfolio, and I was really proud of this, once upon a time. This was my NCTJ (basic press photography qualification) entry as the sports image (back in the early 2000’s). Looking at this photo after so long, I can say it’s pretty rubbish.

Maintaining a portfolio over time is even worse, as you never really get past the starting point: you hate nearly everything you’ve shot. It’s just the way of things: partly it’s over-familiarity, and partly it’s one’s critical eye.

Out with the old - two

At the start of lockdown, I culled a number of photos from my website: my efforts last time didn’t go far enough, and I’d felt for a while that more pruning was necessary to improve my portfolio.

This was my sports entry for the NCE press photography final exam (perhaps from 2005?). Again, I must have liked it once, but now think it is a horrible image and it hurts my eyes. Our final exam requirements also included portraiture, news, fashion, night, use of flash, weather, and some other things. I still have my final portfolio, and may scan the images for a future blog. Or cringe, and bin it.

For me, although I may dislike my work(!), that’s not the hard part. I find this inevitable boredom with one’s own images can, at least, help with objectivity.

No - the tricky part is separating an image from its context: how difficult it was to achieve, how technical, how pressured, how enjoyable, even. And the more that goes into our images, the more we want to like them. We are there through their creation and delivery: the more memorable and significant, the more inextricably tied up when we view them. Yet, rarely do these aspects actually come through in the final image in any meaningful way. They really shouldn’t count for anything.

All that matters, in the end, is that a portfolio should show the best work you can do and the work you’d like to do, as I’ve said above. All the while having a clear, consistent style. Subjectivity is only there as a guide. Be objective. Yet even the most ruthless approach brings doubts, later.

The best way around this issue is to have someone else do it, with your potential clients in mind. It’s your shop window, after all, and not a vanity project. A fresh and unbiased point of view is painful but - with trust and understanding - the sensible way to go.

…nah. Perhaps next time. And after removing a dozen or so irrelevant or weaker images, I was happy enough.

Diamonds in the Rough

I expect that for many photographers there’s something inevitable about the occasional browse through the archives, especially during lockdown. I do this anyway from time to time, collecting content for my occasional “From the Archives” blog series. On this occasion, my portfolio having been on my mind and little actual commissioned work, I was soon at it with a different mindset: actively trawling for photographs I’d once liked and discarded, to put them on my website.

Yes - finding ‘new’ images rather undermines the earlier cull - but anyway. And I knew a positive result would be unlikely.

We’ve all done it - we hope for a rediscovery of a photo in some unhelpfully-named “Maybe” folder which, with a fresh look after some years, aligns with one’s style again. One which might represent what we can and want to do, which could then be put into a portfolio. It would be something previously unappreciated, carelessly ignored. Something which with a bit of a dust-off, a new interpretation (we’ve since forgotten the context of the image), even a fresh run through PS, would be enough to get it onto the website. A new image, without even leaving the house.

The typical ‘deadpan’ portrait was one from a ‘Maybe’ folder and keeps coming up when I trawl old folders. I so want to like this kind of Sunday supplement image (or at least my efforts at them). But I don’t. I used to try to shoot this way from time to time, but it always felt forced. In this case, it didn’t really suit the subject. Somehow, others do the same shot better, and I’m never sure what ingredient is missing when I try. And although it’s important to push our boundaries and try things, with some shots I find I don’t really care after a while. This particular style is just not me.

Not from a “Maybe” folder, but posted as it’s the same basic shot as above, but this looks like I’ve done it more my way: a smile; her feet skewy; and her hands where she wanted them. Still, it’s nowhere near good enough for it to make the grade - it’s too simple a portrait.

Taken during corporate portrait sessions, these two images (above and right) were once potential portfolio material. While, I suppose, they fail by traditional standards, I felt they could perhaps fit in the portrait gallery instead.

However, on revisiting them again, nothing had changed. They’re not strong enough as portraits, and aren’t corporate. And perhaps the reason they don’t work is precisely because they’re neither one thing nor the other.

In the end, nothing was added to my website. But it’s never time wasted. Whenever I look through old work, I’m stock-taking, seeing how and where I’ve improved over time, how my approach and style have developed. Improving in some areas, and by definition, narrowing at the same time.

Oddly, I even notice things I used to do better. Or rather, I wish from time to time I could get something back of my older approach and style which, although less mature and of lower quality (technical and aesthetic), has an appeal, with its simplicity and immediacy. The combination of enthusiasm and ignorance.

There’s almost never anything good in old portfolio folders. And fewer which fit with what we’re up to now. It’s very hard to justify an image that never made it before, regardless of a retouch and wishful thinking. They all lack something - whatever was missing the first time, with years added.

From the Archives

Still, some images catch my eye even if they’re not very good. Often unworthy of much commentary, they’re interesting nonetheless - hence my “From the Archives” sets. These last few images below (to clarify - not potential website material) are some which popped up on this occasion:

Take that jarring colour palette from the earlier motocross shot, and add it to a dreamcoat.

Jazz hands, off-camera flash, a low angle, saturation off the scale, underexposed sky: this is a staple of simple, quirky ‘show picture’ press/PR photography. It actually ticks those boxes quite well - it’s not bad for what it is.

I always felt this was one of those images which, with a few tweaks, could have been very good. It’s an example of how the little details can add up. Maybe not now, but at some point in the past, this could have been a possible portfolio shot but for some simple improvements: a looser composition overall; the hand on the right lit properly; both hands more visible; a better sky; a bit more expression; jacket tidied up and/or pulled out at the bottom, perhaps filling the bottom of the frame with some movement blur.

Seeing these things and taking care of them in the time available for this sort of photo is a tall order, but the more you do it, it becomes second nature. If you didn’t read the link earlier, I talk about this in depth here.

This is another ‘show picture’, which I use in my Instagram / photography classes as an example of storytelling. A local school was creating a newspaper (boring), so I had them hamming it up (fun).

Nothing to do with show pictures or portfolios, but to close today’s post, this was an interesting one for me. A PR commission from many moons ago, above is one of the shots from a quick portrait session I did of two competition winners.

A portrait exhibition (not mine, alas) was being projected onto the National Theatre’s Flytower, on a loop. Part of competition prize was to have these images they’d just had taken, displayed first, to up open the show.

Four photographs

While visiting my parents recently, I saw these little framed photos on the mantelpiece in the guest bedroom. The house has always been a kind of museum as my mum sells antiques: for all I knew, these may have been gathering dust there for years, hiding in plain sight among the bric-a-brac.

But that’s not why I hadn’t noticed them before. It’s a magical house: objects inside are - if not invisible - unseen. Since they exist solely not to be broken, they only appear to visitors when in danger - and even then briefly - with the aim of revealing their weight, material and potential repair cost. It takes a second or third look to actually notice anything, to see something as an object of interest.

Anyway, I was intrigued. There’s something of the gothic about them. And, as personal pictures, they seem familiar as they look out from their tiny, ornate frames. But no, they don’t look like any of the rest of my family at all. Their faces don’t elicit any emotion. None of that sudden sorrow pricked by the image of a great-aunt I might half-remember. These were definitely strangers.

I was also curious as a couple of the sitters are looking off camera. I felt this seemed odd in more traditional times, where a photo-session would take some time and be expensive, I imagine. In other words, you have one shot, but you choose to look away for it. Either they’re dead (Victorian post-mortem photography may or may not have been a thing) or these weren’t family portraits at all, but official royal / celebrity photographs.

Also, there are just four - this is an aside, as I’m aware people didn’t own cameras a hundred years ago - but it made me think: my own childhood fills a couple of albums of images. A hundred photos. Fewer? Not enough to tell a story, but there’s a flavour, perhaps. And throughout the house, on tables, walls, mantelpieces and shelves there are a few dozen framed.

I already have several thousand photos of my family and friends, very few of which I’ll care for enough to print and get anything more considered than an Oliver Bonas frame. I don’t whittle them down: I barely look at them. Everything is downloaded, then uploaded for some future date. Unlike the attic where albums end up (awaiting being thrown away by children on the parents’ death, after just one, cursory, curious browse), there’s infinite space in the cloud.

Memory really is cheap, it seems.

In this stream of recorded consciousness, there’s no hierarchy, no defining moments, no defining times. No editing. Just a near-continuous record of everything both important and irrelevant. Everything captured, just in case, because of the fear of forgetting (as if forgetting’s so awful). Surely we remember what’s important?

Anyway, back to the thread. This lovely collection of four photos.

Who were these people? Were they related? When were the photos taken? They must have been important to someone. The main difference with our current culture of recording is that these are not ‘moments’ - well, one moment in a person’s life, perhaps - but instead, portraits. They may each be the only picture of the person in existence, and as such have a lot of work to do.

Immediately I put them into my bag (without telling mum - it’s easier to seek forgiveness than permission), planning to return them after taking pictures. I later emailed to ask her about them.

She replied:

“Oh, those!

They belonged to a Mrs Annie Haines - she became a family friend when she baby sat [my uncle] when he was a toddler. She died twenty odd years ago so unless I can find a medium and a ouija board -  I can’t ask about her connection - if any - to the subjects.

I helped clear her few belongings when she went into a home a couple of years before she died and kept the photos because I liked them. They are typical of late Victorian/early Edwardian family photographs - especially (as in photo two) where the husband is seated while the wife stands! 

I may be wrong but I think that the handsome young man in the fourth photo could be a ‘celebrity’ of the day rather than a family member. His face is familiar. Sorry, can’t be of any more help. Might be worth taking the photos out of the frames to see if anything is written on the backs…”

So that’s what I did:

Not much. The only one with anything useful to go on is the first picture. A quick search yielded a list of photography studios in the West Midlands in the later half of the 19th century, in this case it looks like Sunderland and Hudson. And the picture is labelled “Great-Grandma Gammage”.

Oddly, I remember Mrs Haines - we used to visit her when I was little.

The rest of her email talked about photos she has at home, on which she does have information. Photos of Georgie, whose death (aged three) was predicted by a gypsy. John, a murderer. An uncle, one of thousands who died building the Burma Railway for the Japanese. I’ve managed to get hold of these and will scan and write about them once I’ve get everything together.

As for these, I don’t really care that I don’t know who they are. They’re nothing to do with me, and there’s no mystery or rabbit-hole of research I’m going down. But in time I’ll inherit them and - just to mess with visitors - put them up somewhere prominent.

Handy gadgets and where to find them

Thinking of what I wanted for Christmas, I asked on a photographers’ forum what they considered to be their most useful gadget.

Although gadgets usually refer to tech, let’s define it (loosely) here as

(1) a non-essential photography tool or device - something that not everyone will have

or

(2) something general but essential, which sits outside photography.

After seeing the answers on the forum, I’m also going to add in some of their responses (3) and one utterly useless, useful thing (4).

I’ve included links where relevant.

(1) Photographic gadgets

While we can discount camera bodies as they’re essential, certain features are handy. Different kinds of focusing, wireless transmitting etc. and also (great if true) cat facial recognition.

And while most lenses, too, are essential kit, when I use my 50mm f1.2 lens wide open it serves to give a definite look - as well as enabling me to shoot in very low light. These effects are otherwise much less easily achievable.

We can also disregard lights. We all use different brands and types depending on our work and the situation, but along with diffusers, modifiers and reflectors, it all does (basically) the same thing.

Lighting

Anyway, starting with lighting, there are many add-ons and various paraphernalia which could be considered gadgets, so I’ll list a few which come to mind.

I have a Rogue Flashbender and a Gary Fong Collapsible Lightsphere - I use both as rough tools in tricky lighting situations.

For more creative work, I like the Magmod kit - not only for the gels, but specifically the Magmask. They allow for easy, controlled playing with light and effects.

I love my medium reflector. The exact model is no longer available, but it’s something like this and has five different ‘faces’ - gold, silver, black, white and translucent. A world of possibility.

I also have a small diffuser for flash. It’s a bit wobbly but does the job.

Other

The X-rite Colorchecker Passport is good for accurate colours: I have one (but in truth I rarely remember to use it).

A battery grip is a costly, but useful extension to a DSLR camera body which allows for easy shooting of uprights. It also stores a second battery, meaning fewer charges and little chance of running low, even on longer shoots.

(2) General gadgets

Moving away from photography to the more general, gaffer tape comes to mind. I have Gorilla Tape which attaches anything to anything, but also some weaker standard masking tape, for when I don’t want to rip the paint off a wall.

Velcro is useful. I have it glued onto my flashes for attaching flags, and I keep some spare to stick flashes to walls for the rare occasion where there’s no other option.

Bulldog clips and different sized spring clamps are in my kit, too.

Bungee / ball loops are versatile little things which allow you to attach small items (flashes, usually) to poles, handles, stands etc.

Sugru - mouldable glue, which I mainly used to keep cables from breaking.

(3) Other photographers’ suggestions

Blackrapid straps, polarising filter, tripod, micro fibre cloth (to keep optics pristine), waterproof boots & darn tough socks, hotshoe spirit-level, travel collapsible beauty dish/soft box and mini pole, Interfit Strobies Portrait kit, a ladder, a monopod*.

Also mentioned were: the ability to make people laugh, shrapnel for the pub, and sharp elbows.

(4) Utterly useless useful thing

My “Colourful Rainbow Silicone Laptop Keyboard Cover Skin” is pretty sweet.

The rest of the stuff filling up my bags is either for security/backup or for specific uses: extra rechargeable batteries (Eneloops), cash, a lens cloth, a second card reader, (too many) memory cards, a hand mirror, gels, a lint roller.

There’s no particular gadget I own which I could not do without. This is probably a good thing, as it’s all too easy to fall back on using the same tools and approaching a shoot with that already in mind. I think much of the time it’s more about finding a method, or using whatever available thing will achieve the result. I’ve used my mobile phone as a rest for my lens on the ground for a night shot, in place of a tripod. I’ve used car headlights to light a subject, a white shirt as a reflector in a forest, and clips to pull back baggy shirts.

The useless gadgets I’ve bought and hardly used makes for a sad list of gimmicks. But, reluctant to throw anything away, I have heaps of rubbish in cupboards which must have seemed like a good idea to buy - perhaps in a different life. These are stored along with a lot of obsolete cables and connectors, 512MB memory cards, old phones without chargers and, of course, small pieces of wood.

*The photographer explains: It lets me do pole shots from above or in dangerous situations e.g. motorbikes at speed, tigers following behind the vehicle I'm travelling in etc. Keeps long lenses from wobbling about. Doubles as a baton for dodgy people like football hooligans as it tends to deter them when they see it coming down towards their head.

How to compose photographs

While composition is only one aspect of what makes a picture work, it’s the one aspect over which you always have some control. It’s about balance, so we can think of the frame as a lever. The simplest setup has a weight directly over the fulcrum:

It is stable, certainly - but in a photograph stable implies safe, and safe can equate to uninteresting, boring. Often something else is done with the composition to imply counterbalance. This image of an umbrella has been cropped to a panorama. Whilst still a very static shot, the crop reduces dead space and makes it about solitude:

A weight placed slightly off-centre is sometimes all that’s required to create some imbalance or tension:

In this analogy, a simple off-placement is an effective technique for a photograph containing just one subject. In the image below, placing the girl centre-frame would probably result in cropping to a square, to fill the frame better. The off-centre composition, the angle of the chair, the girl’s legs over the corner and her informal pose work to emphasise her spirited, youthful nature:

Although the subject in the photo below has been placed centrally, her looking out of frame provides a similar - if only slight - imbalance:

This image uses a similar idea, but you could argue that the lighter side of the building acts as a counterbalance to the main subject (more on this later):

Moving on, the diagram below is balanced with equidistant objects of equal weighting:

Photographically, this would refer to bisected or symmetrical compositions. Although a frame may (often) be filled more readily with two subjects - a good thing - one might assume that such blunt placement would lead to dull or confusing composition. Dull, because it’s reminiscent of the single object above the fulcrum. An confusing, because both subjects compete for attention, breaking the ‘rule’ of simplicity.

But this needn’t necessarily be the case: this kind of balance in a photograph can create various kind of tension.

They two subjects may invite comparison eg where they’re not quite the same. Consider the various series of images online which show a black and white city scene as it once looked during wartime, or a hundred years ago, blended with a colour photograph of how it appears now, both taken from the same viewpoint. This comparison is precisely the point when two images are combined in Before/After.

The composite of the two images (below) results in looking back and forth between the two expressions:

In a single shot, we might make comparisons with family photographs, for instance, and more specifically of siblings, with the most obvious example being identical twins. Here’s an excellent set of portraits by Peter Zelewski.

Other kinds of symmetry can be more exact - as in someone by a mirror - or merely suggested. And sometimes they just point to a simple, direct relationship between two subjects, as in the photograph of the chess players below.

Note that in all these cases (and as illustrated previously with the girl looking out of frame), composition can be merely implied. An example would be found in action shots, where traditionally we compose a photo so that the action is shown coming into the frame. That is, it needs space to move into. Normally we might think of a moving vehicle, a runner, or a ball being kicked - but even an eye line will suffice. That the players are both looking into frame serves to tighten the composition, drawing our own eyes to the chessboard:

Next, balance can be satisfied with the arrangement of one larger object, with a smaller one placed further from the fulcrum:

Translated to a photograph, the subject - sharp/dominant/larger in the frame - is composed with a secondary subject positioned on the other side of the frame which may be smaller/darker/out of focus etc:

The shot of the dancers below uses the same technique:

Moving onto imbalance, scales weighted with a single object near the end will fall, with nothing to act as a counterbalance:

In a photograph, this equates to skewed or disharmonious composition, and can be employed to create an edgy, uncomfortable, exciting or dramatic mood.

Typically I think of fashion photography, where it could be a face, cropped in half, right at the edge of the frame. It’s also often seen in war, ‘hard’ photojournalism and documentary photography. James Nachtwey, Martin Parr have plenty of examples. Or have a look at how TV drama series Mr Robot uses this framing device to evoke unease and tension.

This technique needn’t necessarily use composition to achieve this - disorder and discomfort can be created by subverting other expectations. For instance the subject, centre frame, but out of focus, would achieve the same discomforting effect as an off-composition.

I struggled to find any good examples from my own work to illustrate this kind of image! It’s neither my style, nor does it apply to much of my commissioned work by its nature. Anyway, hopefully I can make the point with this photo of my eldest when he was much smaller (I should admit I applied this crop in post):

In the triptych below, the effect is only slightly applied, and done so for comic/absurd effect. Note that given its subject matter, it would be hard to justify placement any further to the edge of frame:

Finally, a complex arrangements of objects across the lever may still have equilibrium, and the diagram below illustrates how this might look:

Photographically, this refers to the majority of images which have several points of interest around the frame. Photos are rarely in perfect equilibrium; a mix of balance and imbalance within a frame is very common. After all - unlike the lever - composition is not exact mathematics, and I think most would agree that composition probably shouldn’t ever be too perfect. Here are some examples of busier compositions which still retain sufficient harmony:

In the image below, it’s easier to envisage an (unwelcome) imbalance if the lady in the background on the right of the frame weren’t there:

Where time or location is a constraint, eg day to day scenes, candid or street photography etc. situations don’t usually even allow for the 'clean’ setups shown in the examples so far (this is all assuming such a style of image were even desirable, of course - I’ve used these simple examples so far to illustrate the point). In any case, composition may not be the main aspect of what helps make a particular photograph.

The Rule of Thirds

Photographers tend to dislike photographic rules - this one in particular. Rules can be formulaic and safe: they often work best when they’re bent or broken. That said, I’d be remiss not to mention the ‘ROT’ - and it’s an easy go-to. With this idea, the frame is usually depicted as a noughts and crosses board:

Simply put, it means placing the subject off-centre, on both axes. Where there are other points of interest, they would ‘ideally’ fall on the opposite junction:

As I’ve said elsewhere, cropping is the most powerful tool of all (and is included in all editing software), meaning composition can therefore be applied/corrected afterwards.

This leads to a final aside - if composition can be employed to emphasise or draw attention to something, at its extreme it can be used to change the meaning of a photo entirely. “Cause of Death” by John Hilliard illustrates this with four images of a dead body, each telling a different story:

I hope this has been of interest!

How to edit photographs in Instagram

#nofilter

This hashtag means, “This is straight out of camera. It looks great without any effects or editing. It’s all down to me.”

Well, even if they’re telling the truth (ahem), they’re sadly mistaken. The camera/phone has to process the shot to create a jpeg file. It applies sharpness, contrast, brightness, adds blacks, reduces noise and compresses the file, having already determined colour balance and exposure. That’s quite a lot of work.

Also - like it or not - pretty much every image can be improved - SHOULD be improved - with some further work. Editing is to an photographer what revision is to a writer, presentation is to a chef, or pruning is to a gardener. That’s why #nofilter doesn’t really impress. Depending on the image, I’d say the editing makes up between 20%-40% of the final impact.

Editing begins with correction, which gradually becomes improvement, which then runs into creation (which is at the opposite end of the scale to #nofilter). Everyone has different views to where the boundaries lie, how much to do or declare, and the context of the photo and its purpose will also largely determine this. Note that the ‘creation’ aspect is very limited in Instagram, but I’d certainly place the ‘filters’ in this camp.

So the first thing to say when editing is: ditch the filters. But not for the reason above. But instead, because they make an image look processed: all style over substance. And for anyone who cares about creating nice imagery, why put all that effort into taking a photograph, then leave the rest to an algorithm you don’t understand? I’ve found doing the editing myself informs my photography, and my photography influences the editing.

Some of Instagram’s filters, which apply an instant ‘look’ to an image.

Let’s think about what we’re trying to achieve.

The approach

For me, the rule is to make an image look as good as possible, without making it look like you’ve done much at all. And remember, edits are global. That is, the effect is applied to the entire image. So for instance if you wanted to darken something, then everything gets darker. Improvements will therefore have trade-offs: a good reason for a light touch.

OK - the ‘correction’ part' is easy - is it too dark, does it need cropping etc?

When it turns into improvement, it’s then about asking what the picture is about, and emphasising that aspect. So if it’s a picture of friends, your adjustments should mainly consider their faces, and so may involve Brightness, Saturation and Sharpness. If it’s a sunset silhouette, you’re looking at Contrast. If it’s a portrait of your grandmother, best to skip Structure. If the subject is centre-frame, you might be considering cropping, or the Vignette tool. And so on. With global edits, the trade-off means you have to let the rest of the frame fall where it may.

It is not about sliding every slider each way to see what looks nice. That’s time-consuming and results in an over-processed look ‘just because it looks good’. You’re not being sympathetic to the right treatment. Plus if you’re spending more than a minute editing, that’s too long.

We’ve dealt with the filters. Let’s look at the editing tools now, starting with the most essential one: the crop.

The editing tools

Crop

This is on the very first page, and not immediately obvious as it sits near Boomerang and Layout. Instagram defaults your image to a square, and this function returns it to its original shape, if different. You can crop in/out by pinching/squeezing, or move the canvas around.

When to use

Always. It can be used as a trim to tidy up the frame. It can be used more severely to cut out unwanted elements. Or it can be used to radically recompose and change the meaning of the image.

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Lux

Also often missed, this appears at the top of the filter page. It’s the odd one out in that by clicking on it, it automatically adds 50%. It works on contrast, saturation and sharpness, and gives a bit of a ‘pop to flat images.

When to use

Nearly always, and roughly between 10-30. Never above 50. Be careful to press ‘Cancel’ - not ‘Done’ - if you don’t want it.

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Adjust

Since you can crop on the opening edit page, this is only useful for perspective correction.

When to use

Almost never. Occasionally you’ll have something large or small at the edge of an image which looks wrong, eg a face in a group photo. Otherwise, it’s only necessary if your image relies on exact angles, parallel lines etc.

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Brightness

I often return to this tool a couple of times during editing, as Highlights, Shadows and Contrast all affect overall brightness.

When to use

You should use this for almost every photo.

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Contrast

This is about how much ‘punch’ there is in your image; it’s the difference between the shadows and the highlights. Be aware this will affect the saturation of an image.

When to use

Most of the time: the majority of images need a little boost. However, with misty landscapes and images with a calmer mood you might want to go the other way, reducing contrast.

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Structure

Similar to the ‘clarity’ tool in professional editing programs, this tool lies somewhere between sharpness and contrast, and gives a crunchy, hi-definition feel to an image.

When to use

It pulls up texture, so definitely not to be used on a portrait of your grandmother as it would be unflattering. But for a photograph of her hands, it would be fantastic. I use it a lot for detail and abstract images.

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Warmth

This gives a red/orange hue sliding right into the positive; sliding to the left (negative) gives a blue/green hue.

When to use

I rarely use this except to give a bit of a ‘look’. Use sparingly - you never want to push this too far in either direction.

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Saturation

This determines how strong the colours appear in an image. Strictly, it’s about how much grey there is.

When to use

Naturally, images relying on (‘about’) colour may benefit from saturation. But you’d be surprised how effective a slight reduction can be, typically between -10 to -20, especially in more moody/soft-light portraiture.

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Colour

This tints the highlights, shadows, or both with a colour and to a degree of your choosing.

When to use

Rarely, if ever. And extremely sparingly. It gives the image a look (in the same way as the filters do). So as soon as it’s noticeable, you’ve gone too far.

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Fade

This reduces the blacks and colours. Again, it gives a very obvious look to an image.

When to use

Perhaps on a misty scene, but otherwise never: this belongs among the filters.

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Highlights

This deals with the brightest parts of an image. Sliding to the right can ramp them towards white, whereas to the left darkens them.

Shadows

Like highlights, but covering the darker tones. Sliding to left pulls them towards black, while to the right lightens them, revealing shadow detail.

When to use

Nearly always, for both. While degree is a matter of taste, more contrast tends to be more desirable; pulling them apart achieves this, resulting in punchier and simpler results which work well on the platform, but at the risk of losing subtlety and detail. Bringing them together has a softening/fading effect, and can result in an HDR-type look.

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Vignette

This darkens the edges of the picture, drawing the viewer’s attention to the centre of the frame.

When to use

Use for anything where the corners are unimportant, but they must already be (slightly) dark. On a light background, vignetting looks horrible, or at least makes the image look overly processed eg sky.

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Tilt Shift

This is a naughty little cheat tool, blurring everything outside the target area. Blur can be radial, with both the size and location of the focus area set with pinching and moving. It can also be linear, where the width and angle can be changed. It’s a lot of fun and has immediate impact.

When to use

For snaps - if you use this, it’s very obvious and unnatural.

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Sharpen

This is an essential tool, even though the results can be hard to see at anything less than about 50%, especially on small screens. It gives that final little tweak. Our eyes are drawn to - among other things - anything sharp, so it’s an important part of the process.

When to use

Always.

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Final tips

Left to right workflow

Work left to right, and go back if you need to. A dot will appear underneath the settings you’ve changed. Remember, you don’t need to use every tool.

Touch and go

Keep checking the before and after. By holding your finger on an editing screen, you’ll see how the image would look without that adjustment. On the main screen, it shows how it would look without any adjustments applied. Touching and removing is a handy before/after view.

Ease off

With that last point in mind, pull back on your effects, as they compound one another. 34 Saturation, 47 Contrast, 45 Highlights, -28 Shadows: all of a sudden you have a very heavily-processed image. 34 should be 20; perhaps bring 47 down to around 30, and so on.

I hope this is of use! Happy ‘gramming.

Out with the old

In my recent article about how we improve (“A little learning is a dangerous thing"), I talked about how my old work isn’t good enough now - can’t be good enough - as my skills / critical eye have developed. I wrote, “Hopefully, in the years to come I'll feel the same way about the pictures I have in my portfolio now. Because if not, I'm not improving.”

There’s this idea that anything not recent doesn’t represent us, is somehow false or misleading for being out of date. We’ve moved on - or regressed. But I’m now coming round to the conclusion this is erroneous. More on this later.

Regardless, in the meantime my website is bloated, and in need of a refresh: I’ve not done much to it in a while. This seems like a good opportunity to remove some of the dead wood. And besides, the more I’ve improved, the easier I should be able to cull old images. Right..?

Before finishing marking pictures for deletion - a troubling task - I ask for thoughts on a forum: how old is old? How do you feel about showing work you haven’t done in a long time? Does it still represent you?

I say troubling because it’s really not easy. It’a not like old food - I can’t just look at the date and bin it. Some of my old photos I still like. Do I really have to take them down? I don’t want to. Hmm. I’m not nearly as dispassionate as I should be in displaying my work. Or today, at least. It just doesn’t feel like the right thing to do in the name of a cleaner portfolio.

The hive-mind replies. The near-unanimous response - a slight surprise and a great relief - was that it’s completely fine to have old pictures, as long as they don’t look dated, and as long as you have new work, too.

So I’ve gone through again, looking only for the weaker pictures, with only half an eye on the date taken. That’s surely more important, how good an image is. But I don’t know which are good or bad. It’s an important skill and notoriously difficult. I’ve only ever culled a few images over the years, those which begin to stick out rather obviously after a time. But nowadays the quality and style is, I feel, fairly consistent throughout. I know better than to seek true objectivity from colleagues, as they will tear apart my keepers and praise the ones which need to go. And they’ll disagree with one another. As for deleting the weak ones myself, on the one hand I’m bored of nearly all my work, and on the other, I’m oddly attached to much of it.

But the ‘bored’ part - does this mean I’ve improved? Yes? Great…but if so, where’s the new, improved work to replace what’s to be removed? Ah. Well, I do have a few images which need putting up. But for now, mostly, it’s about culling.

So I ask myself these questions about each image:

• Do I like it?

• Does it represent the work I do, or would like to do? Or rather, will it appeal to the clients with whom I’d like to work?

• Is it the best example among similar images in my portfolio? Is it different enough to justify existing?

  (while keeping in mind)

• Has it been taken recently?

Devoid of context, the best images in a portfolio continue to shine. These images below - the ones I’m retiring - all suffer from the corollary: standing alone as they do, they don’t say much. There’s nothing wrong with them per se, but I don’t feel any of them quite spark an emotion or connection on their own. And I realise why - I’d included many of them as placeholders, representing a technique, style, or kept just because they were a little different.

Getting rid of a dozen images is not quite the grand cull I’d imagined, but it’s a start.

A little learning is a dangerous thing

“Do you still improve as a photographer?” a friend asked recently. What an odd question - I’ve been doing it for nearly 15 years, and have only in the last few reached a point where I’m not constantly worrying and feeling like a fraud. All I ever strive for is improvement. It’s a strange idea that one day you just ‘get it’ and you’re done.

I realised three things.

One is that you don’t ‘just get’ anything. Everything can be improved. Even walking? Yes, I’m pretty good at that, but put me on a catwalk and I’d like some lessons first. What about drinking? Maybe, but ask the people who taste coffee, buy wines, and you’ll find there’s more to it.

Two is that any assumption - here, that photography is something you ‘get’ - is based, in part at least, on our being unable to see, judge or understand anything much outside our sphere of knowledge. On a recent weekend in Dublin, my Irish hosts were stunned I couldn’t hear the difference between their accents - Galway, Cork, Derry*. Why would I? But while not important to me, it is where it concerns one’s identity within a country. Or to take another example: I’ve barely touched my guitar in 20 years (and was only Oasis-round-the-campfire level then). Yet my kids think I’m a rock legend. Because they don’t know better, I’m up there with Slash and Jimmy Page.

Three is that improvements must become smaller. What I learn in the next few years will be far less than what I learned in my first years as a freelance. Or to put it another way, I need to work much harder now to to improve the same amount**.

Anyway, the following diagram - which I came across some years ago - describes the learning process from beginner to expert, and applies to any skill or ability - driving a car, playing the piano or, indeed, practising photography.

    Stage one is 'unconscious incompetence'. This is where you have a subject which you don't know about, and, moreover, you don't know what you don't know. This could be something like the stock market, interior design, or Bolivian basket-weaving. It applies to most things, for most people.

    The next stage is 'conscious incompetence'. You have a basic grasp of a subject, and realise there’s a lot more to learn. This applies to the well-read, the busy, the educated and the hobbyists, about most things.

    The third stage is 'conscious competence'. You are practised enough to do it, aware of how far you've come, and aware of what else there is to know and learn. The most basic techniques are perhaps second-nature, but the bulk of performing the activity is very much a conscious process. 

    Then, at stage four, we reach 'unconscious competence'. The knowledge acquired is now hardwired in the unconscious part of the brain through practice and/or study. Almost as if you're not aware of what you know - it's second-nature. Like riding a bike. Or, like speaking in our native tongue, we can produce and process complex sentences at will, taking into account grammar, vocabulary, intonation and body language. But most of us would be unable to analyse or explain the compound verbs, adjuncts, facial clues or speech patterns we use so readily.

There’s also "reflective competence", which is to do with a self-awareness and deep understanding of a subject, the kind required for teaching or writing. It might also suggest an ability to adapt and respond naturally to entirely new challenges.

Or, the arrow could lead back to stage one. Unconscious competence can lead to complacency and habit as one develops a personal style, set along certain ways of doing things, and self-belief becomes stronger. It can be hard to learn (or one might actively resist) new techniques or accept new ideas, and to do so requires starting again, at least in some way. I remember as a student the feeling of ‘unlearning’ what style I’d had as a keen amateur.

Competence and the Critical Eye

    Bringing it back to photography, as you improve and get the basics under your belt, you being to notice things previously hidden or ignored. Things which didn't bother you before - didn't even appear on your radar - now become issues to deal with. Your pictures get better through experience, but as this learning finds its way into your work, you become more critical of them. In learning what to 'look for', so you see those things when you judge the picture later. Messy backgrounds, dead space, and burnt-out highlights never bothered me when I started out. They simply didn't register. But looking now, these flaws would be the first thing I see and all I notice. Hopefully, in the years to come I'll feel the same way about the pictures I have in my portfolio now. Because if not, I'm not improving.

    For me, this is where doing photography and viewing photography overlap. Doing photography takes place in real time, with all the difficulties and problems that brings. The better you become, the 'higher' the concerns which you need to consciously think about, concerns which didn’t exist before. And with these newer concerns on your mind, when you view the pictures later, these are the things you may (or may not) have got right. Those are the new benchmarks by which you judge the success of the shoot.

Ars est celare artem

    And the higher up you go, the more theoretical they become. For the really good photographers, the 'rules' count for less and less. Some of the greatest pictures can look, at first glance, almost like amateur snapshots, in my opinion. They look easy, without any apparent art or style. The Latin quotation above (sometimes incorrectly attributed to Ovid) loosely translates as "Art is the concealment of art", or "Art hides itself". The idea is that the greatest art lacks overt ingenuity or self-conscious craftsmanship. It doesn't seem to present itself as art - until you look closer. It suggests that you need to be at a certain 'level' to really appreciate it. And one recognises that improvements are harder and harder to get: the final few metres are what separates the good from the great.

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The Dunning-Kruger effect

Going back to the second idea (how little we really know, when we know very little), this is a symptom of unconscious incompetence. The model below describes the relationship between one’s ability and one’s confidence:

After only a short time learning a new skill, we feel we know a great deal. Probably because even after a few lessons (in anything), we’re already ahead of 98% of people. But soon enough, our self-belief plummets (consciously incompetent), before we begin to build up our ability and confidence at a more equal ratio (consciously competent).

Alexander Pope described the behaviour in 1709:

“A little learning is a dangerous thing;

drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:

there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,

and drinking largely sobers us again.”

I’d like to think “I’m kind of getting it now” with regards photography. And I’d point out that if we knew from the start how much there is to learn about something, we’d probably never bother to do anything. A little ignorance and a touch of unwarranted confidence is a helpful nudge to get things started.

*If I’m honest, I sometimes struggle hearing between Scottish and Irish.

**An analogy from Breaking Bad: Gale Boetticher’s meth reaches 96% purity, yet he is in awe of Walter’s 99.1%.

I don't follow you

Instagram again. I'm going to talk about those I don't / won't follow. Probably because it's cathartic to make a vague swipe at the misuse, self-indulgence and poor behaviour on the platform.

A little background: for me, IG is mostly a place for all my 'singles', images which I take outside of work and which don't belong in a portfolio. Usually patterns, shapes and abstracts, that sort of thing (here). I also put the odd 'proper' image in there to mix it up, with half an eye on the (potential) professional/portfolio aspect.

I spend between 5-20 minutes a day on IG, and have 1,453 followers (today), and follow 604.

So, accounts I tend to follow include: quality photography and art; picture editors and related; potential and existing clients; odd, interesting and similar accounts, and some friends.

Regrettably, like many, I also follow accounts upon which I border on indifference, but I'm whittling these down over time. And some accounts whose origins I can't remember. The rest are the remnants of the few days last year when I used a bot. I remove these as and when. 

Anyway, here's who I don't follow:

• People who list their kit. I just don't understand why anyone would do this. Nobody cares.

• Anyone who uses more than one or two emojis in their profile.

• Anyone following more than 500 people (I'm aware of the hypocrisy, but I'm trying). Seriously, though, some people follow a couple of thousand accounts. This is silly. They only care about themselves - they're not interested in you, or me, or anyone. Someone following over 10k people followed me the other day. Do the maths. Them spending, say, two seconds looking at one image per person per day equals... 5.5 hours per day on IG. So, do they want to see my work? No. It's clickbait, in order for me to follow back. Sometimes these people then unfollow. The cheek of it.

• #catsofinstagram - I'd never get any work done. It's the pinnacle of human achievement.

• People who post more than a couple of inspirational quotes. Just please stop.

• Anyone with a disproportionately high following in relation to their number of posts. This is suspicious. Do your time and upload some content, don't use a bot.

• Professional photographers whose target audience is those who they know personally, and worse, just those they know very well. Typically, you can spot them because their posts are insider-ish (to the exclusion of others) eg friends, BTS shots, holidays, in-jokes, family. You're not posting for me. That's fine - equally I'm not interested in you, I'm here to see your work.

• People who describe themselves as an "influencer", "dreamer", "disrupter" or "thought leader". Or use hashtags like #lifegoals. It's not that I don't get it - I do. We're just very different people and we wouldn't be friends in the real world.

• People who have too many selfies. 1 per 20 uploads is probably fine. More if you're a model, I guess.

• Friends who didn't follow me back. Why do you hate me?

Finally, there are posts which raise an eyebrow, but aren't necessarily dealbreakers. The absolute worst are portraits taken of celebrities who've just died, sometimes within minutes of the news breaking. The caption talks about the time (six years previously) when they photographed them, how nice they were, how sad it is etc. followed by a sea of these hashtags: #death #sorrow #tragedy #death #celebrity #overdose #portraitphotographer #londonphotographer #rip #sad #commission #suicide. You are horrible people. But I like your style. 

In the interests of full disclosure, I should note that actually I'll follow anyone, and am guilty of most of the offences listed.

Choosing between photos

A little about the editing process today, and the tough choice we have to make when choosing between two or more shots which are similar. This photo above is in my portrait gallery, and the subject is - possibly - good enough to be worthy of inclusion there, regardless of accompanying gestures (here, the gloved hand framing the eye).

Naturally, it was one of several ideas we tried out. The photo below could equally have been picked: there's little between them, especially since you could argue that the gesture in both is arbitrary. All things being equal, you go with your instinct when making a preference, but often you use more objective details (and in this case, it came down to the hand on the chin overdoing it). But it's not easy, knowing you're consigning a perfectly good, potential portfolio image to a hard drive in a cupboard.

Below are two images from a shoot with Shelly D'Inferno for mobile provider giffgaff:

Neither made the final cut (my preferred versions are here). How to compare them? The top image shows more of Shelley, but the expression doesn't fit. The bottom image makes more contact with a stronger (or at least more apt) expression, but I feel the hands should be more splayed, like claws, and that the clothes are rather lost. And I'm not sure if I like, or dislike, not being able to see her eyes. 

The point is this: whenever I have to choose between similar shots which I both like, alarm bells ring. Because if they both have obvious advantages over the other, there may be too much missing from both. It usually means I can't look past the subject to judge them on better criteria, that I just want it to work so badly I'll look past flaws which wouldn't get more than a moment's consideration on any other shoot.

Admittedly, sometimes the subject matter is so good that all other frames of comparison really do lose relevance - so in truth, knowing when this is the situation is the hardest judgement of all.

Corporate self-portraiture

My colleague Annabel Moeller and I photographed each other for the profile page of our corporate portrait business (currently on hold). It was an exquisitely painful and self-conscious process for the both of us - you can't use patter or be objective (essential!) when you know someone. So it was an unusually cold, awkward and purposeful shoot, and not, then, despite being friends, but because of it.

Well, we got through it in the end, and while I (think I) like the shots, I don't feel that they're 'me'. I might normally put this down to the fact that many people dislike both the process and the results of being photographed. But it's simpler than that: we wanted to appear professional, so I shaved, donned a suit, and put on my best smile. Yet I never wear a suit. I never shave. And in real life I'm not even very sure I smile much anyway.

But then, perhaps my opinion is just coloured by my experience of the shoot. Knowing what went into it, from the lighting to the lens, the angles to the processing, I can't help but regard them as formulaic and posed. Or, at least, less natural/sponatenous than they might have appeared without this understanding. I guess some of our judgment on the worth of a photo will always be influenced by context and background, as I've talked about previously. 

It was at least useful in terms of putting myself in the shoes of a subject - but for the moment I'll keep using the shot below (by James). It was one of only a few very brief shots I think I recall were taken purely as a lighting test! Hyper-candid portraits - if you will - as I wasn't posing, or expecting to keep them on the card, but merely standing in place to see the effect of his new lights.

Or perhaps I just prefer it because it's been edited with the Awesome Filter Plugin™.

From the archives - two

I've nearly finished going through my archives in search of old images which I'd originally dismissed. 

As I've said elsewhere, even strong images tend to fade over time, both due to familiarity, and as one develops or improves. But occasionally, I'll come across an old reject which, with a fresh look, away from context - and usually with a different edit - I like much better second-time around.

Out of tens of thousands, only two or three of these I've since dusted off, tidied up, and put up in my galleries. But dozens got close - and were then rejected again.

The photo below is from a series of portraits of musicians (initially all 3- or 4-star rated I expect) but I thought this particular one could be worth another look - was it really only average? Yes. I really wanted it to work - a simple, outdoor shot like this would go well on my website. And there's nothing really wrong with it - and technically and aesthetically it's fine, but something about it's just a bit empty, boring, flat:

No matter how revised or polished a photo is, if it's not working, it's not working. You can do wonders in post-production, but there has to be something in the original which can't be created later, which has nothing to do with adjustments or photoshop. 

It's important to be brutally honest and unforgiving when judging an image, but often, subjectivity gets in the way. Usually it's the lengths you knew you'd gone to to achieve the shot - you were so invested in it that it becomes personal. 

I think it's about changing your role once you've put the camera down and when you're going through the work on the computer. You have to become an editor - a different set of skills - because as a photographer you can't be objective. And as an editor, this image isn't good enough. Next!

Egosurfing

I posted one of my photos of Julia Donaldson recently. I was thinking about when I've searched for my work online (photographers have to keep track of their images), and she always appears on page one. So I wanted to post three of my most Google-friendly* shots. 

For the past four years (at least), when I search my name, the image that's usually on the top line is (a version of) astronaut Tim Peake:

As for viral, one photo from a set I took of War Horse's star, Joey, among the poppies at the Tower of London (Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red) has been everywhere, with thousands of shares and likes on Facebook**:

Finally (drum roll...) my most "shared" photo is from 2006 of two Sphynx cats, Dream-maker and Felicity. They are not only beautiful, but they appear to be kissing. As such, it wins the Internet most days:

*By 'Google-friendly', I usually mean shared. And by shared, I mean infringed, a euphemism for stolen. 

**Alas, the value of a picture credit is zero.