Tag: <span>black and white photography</span>

Yonge and Dundas, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

Back when I was growing up in the 1970s my grandfather George Mason used to wear a dress hat on special occasions, or when he went into town. I always thought they looked cool, and probably tried them on from time to time. When I moved to Toronto in 1980, I noticed that older men were still wearing these hats. Perhaps took note of them and photographed them because of my grandfather.

I always assumed men wore dress hats, or “business hats” to hide balding heads, or to protect them from the elements. But it seems, in history, hats were a thing for other reasons. According to Deborah Henderson, a costume designer and the author of four books about men’s headwear, “Throughout history, people wore hats to indicate their social position in the world. Any trade—postman, engineer, pilot—had its own cap. Even lawyers, in the ’50s, all wore fedoras.”

Why did men stop wearing dress hats? An article from Esquire magazine suggests that nobody has pinpointed one sole reason why men stopped wearing hats. One reason could be the rise in automobile use. “With low roofs meaning you couldn’t wear a hat while driving and generally had no need to cover your head anyway, personal transport often negated the need for headwear.”

Another reason could be the stigma associated with WWII. “Another theory posited suggests that the hat suffered a serious decline after the end of World War II because it was an unwelcome reminder of the time people had spent in uniform. Men who fought did not want to wear hats with civilian clothes after the war.”

Benjamin Leszcz writes in Canadian Business, “A potent social signifier, hats identified a man’s role in society. (Hence the idiom of “putting one’s [insert profession] hat on.”) Little surprise, then, that the individualism of the ’60s and ’70s rejected the rule-bound world of hats, embracing anti-establishment afros, flowing locks and blow-dryer-enabled atrocities. By the late ’80s, the hat stigma faded, and every couple of years since, fashion journalists proclaim the hat’s comeback. Today, hats are runway stalwarts, and classic brands—like Borsalino, Stetson and Biltmore, which until recently was based in Guelph, Ont.—are holding steady. But hats will never entirely come back. The shift is decisive: historically, men wore hats to fit in; today, men wear hats to stand out.”

These days when I visit Toronto the people I see wearing dress hats are thirty-something hipsters going for that vintage look.

George Mason, Stanley, Nova Scotia, 1979 – © Avard Woolaver

.

dress hats
Nathan Phillips Square, Toronto, 1982 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Yonge and Dundas, Toronto, 1983 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Parliament Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Crazy Joe’s Flea Market, Toronto, 1983 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Dundas West and Keele, Toronto, 1982 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Street Vendor, Yonge and Gerrard, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Spadina Avenue, Toronto, 1982 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Yonge Street, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Nathan Phillips Square, Toronto, 1982 – © Avard Woolaver

Film Photography Photography

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

What have I been up to lately? Well, spending a bit more time in urban settings, and using a new DSLR that provides a different perspective from my iphone. These recent black and white photos are a mix of street photography and new topographics which aim to let the tones tell part of the story.

The photos, when viewed on a phone, or even a laptop, are so small. I wish they could be seen on a larger scale as some of them contain a information not easily seen in a small photo.

Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Windsor, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Bedford, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Bedford, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

,

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Bedford, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

.

recent black and white, new topographics, street photography.
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2022 – © Avard Woolaver

 

 

Black and White Photography

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming,  photography,

I have always been monochrome dreaming. Since first picking up a camera, I have been interested in recording odd scenes; photos that make you do a double take. In the early days, I didn’t concentrate on it very much. I’d take a photo whenever I came across something unusual. It wasn’t until I got a digital camera in 2006 that I began to actively look for everyday scenes that make the familiar seem a little strange.

With a digital camera, I could experiment more–take many photos of the same scene in order to change the angle of a reflection or align elements perfectly. My image making went from taking a one-off of a particular scene to exploring the scene more fully to get the best possible shot. In this post I show photos taken over the past decade

In my Wish You Were Here series, I aim to challenge the viewers’ attention in a subtle way by finding everyday scenes with elements of whimsy and surrealism. Like Magritte, and Friedlander, I want to make the familiar seem a little strange, but without Photoshop and image manipulation. These photos come about through observation, using juxtaposition, reflection, typography, and scale. My new project, “Monochrome Dreaming” shows black and white images with dream-like qualities that aspire to entertain the senses.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Windsor, Nova Scotia, 2010 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2014 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2011 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Highway 101, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Monochrome, Monochrome Dreaming, photography,
Union Corner, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

Black and White Observation Photography

I only know how to take one photo
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2010 – © Avard Woolaver

In some way, I only know how to take one photo. I just do it at different times and locations. It brings to mind a quote from blues harmonica legend Charlie Musselwhite: “I only know one tune, and I play it faster or slower, or I change the key, but it’s just the one tune I’ve ever played in my life. It’s all I know.” There is a particular photo by Lee Friedlander that I believe may be the basis for my photographic approach. I discovered it in 1978, in a book titled Concerning Photography. At that time, I was just learning how to use a camera and was very passionate about this new endeavor.

Albuquerque, New Mexico, 1972 – Lee Friedlander

The black and white photo, titled “Albuquerque, New Mexico, 1972,” shows an intersection cluttered with a hydrant and various poles. There is a car tire in frame on the right, as well as a high-rise apartment building. In the centre, there is a small house (or small bank building), and on the right—the pièce de résistance – a dog sitting on the sidewalk, partially obscured by a pole, looking like it’s waiting to use the crosswalk. So much information, and wonderful balance of so many elements. And such beautiful, creamy black and white tones. The photo is bursting with creativity, intelligence and deadpan humour–and seems to be the visual equivalent of jazz music.

I only know how to take one photo
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2010 – © Avard Woolaver

Over the course of forty years, I have taken many kinds of photos—landscapes, portraits, documentary, editorial, but I keep returning to this wonderful Lee Friedlander photo with its delicate balance of design elements, its visual humour and social commentary. When I go out into the world with my camera, the most satisfying moments come when I know I have taken a quirky photo, one that makes the viewer do a double take. It may be the only photo I know how to take, yet I was there, and I saw that!

I only know how to take one photo
Windsor, Nova Scotia, 2011 – © Avard Woolaver

Black and White Documentary Photography

Lee Friedlander, social landscape,
Digby, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

In the 1960s and 1970s, Lee Friedlander evolved an influential and often imitated visual language of urban “social landscape,” with many of his photographs including fragments of store-front reflections, structures framed by fences, posters and street signs. For the past forty years my own photos have focused on the social landscape, and I owe a lot to Lee for setting me on this course.

I’ve been a fan of Friedlander since I discovered his photographs in the 1970s, in a Time-Life book called Documentary Photography. The writer described the photos as chaotic: “There is a brooding message of disorientation, of something having gone askew in these pictures.” For me, his photos are bursting with creativity, intelligence and deadpan humour–they seem to be the visual equivalent of jazz music. He welcomed foreground obstructions such as poles and trees, and also his own shadow, as a way of creating visual interest. When I was a student at Ryerson, I used to look at a leaf through a book of Lee photos before going out to take photos. He has been one of my main sources of photographic inspiration over the years.

Eric Kim writes in his blog: “Friedlander was interested in capturing “The American social landscape.” This included photographs that included people and also photographs that didn’t include people. I think one of the biggest cruxes in my street photography career so far is the idea that all of my shots had to include people.

If you look at some of Friedlander’s best work, many of them don’t include people. Rather, he focuses on signage, interesting sculptures, numbers, words, letters, cars, and other intimate objects. I think this is actually what makes Friedlander’s work stand out from all of the street photographers from history; the fact that his photos that don’t include people still have so much humanity– and tell a lot about American society.”

Everyone has their own visual take on the world. My photos represent my own vision of the social landscape that has evolved over time. It’s important to give a nod to those who inspired you. Most of the photos in this post were taken quite recently. Lee has been on my mind.

social landscape, Lee Friedlander
Graves Island, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

.

social landscape, Lee Friedlander
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

.

social landscape, Lee Friedlander
East Ferry, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

.

social landscape, Lee Friedlander
Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

Lee Friedlander, social landscape,
Summerside, Prince Edward Island, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

social landscape, black and white photograph,
Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

social landscape, black and white photograph,
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2013 – © Avard Woolaver

.

social landscape, Lee Friedlander
Windsor, Nova Scotia, 2011 – © Avard Woolaver

Blogging Photography Social Landscape