I like to observe the shapes of things–it’s a big part of my photographic vision. I also like the 1966 hit song by the Yardbirds. You may recall the the opening line…”Shapes of things before my eyes.” Some photos I take remind me of this song with its dark and moody lyrics that are said to be in opposition to the Vietnam War. I love the guitar sounds, the marching beat, and the unforgettable “rave-up” with Jeff Beck’s eastern sounding guitar solo. It is said to be the first popular psychedelic rock song.
When I Was Young, Everything Was Black and White (Day 7 of 31)
I’m in my late fifties, which means I grew up with a black-and-white television. When I was young our TV got two channels, both of them snowy. Even shows that had been filmed in colour were, in our household and others like ours, translated into varying shades of grey.
And I loved paging through Life magazine; there, too, reality was shown in black and white. It became my default understanding of what a photo was.
Old family photos in my parents’ and grandparents’ albums, similarly, were in black and white. We had colour film, of course, and I enjoyed my father’s colour slides (shown on a big screen in the living room when we had company or at Christmas). But the basic set of beliefs I had about photos or images was that they were in black and white.
I think there’s some level at which, when I got seriously into photography in my twenties, I was working from that assumption. I still love looking at tonal variation and shades of grey—how a black-and-white photo can contain everything from deepest inky black to a pale, foggy, mist, to white and nearly silver. Black and white isn’t lacking, or second-best; it’s just different.
And it’s not better. There can be a kind of high-handedness about it, a sort of snooty, superior quality. A whiff of reading Russian novels at breakfast and watching only foreign films, an “I’m better than you” air. That’s an empty pretense, though. There doesn’t need to be any message in using it.
It’s beautiful. Colour is beautiful. Both are great—a pleasure to shoot, a pleasure to look at.
(For the month of October 2017, I’m participating in the 31 Days bloggers’ challenge. You can find out about it here, and check out the interesting work other bloggers are posting.)
Give yourself a photo assignment. A bit of structure can be helpful when taking photos; it gives you a set purpose.
There is something to be said for wandering around aimlessly with a camera looking for whatever grabs your eye. This is the mode I’m frequently in; to me it represents the ultimate freedom. Some of my more memorable photos, however, have come about as the result of a specific assignment.
When attending Ryerson in Toronto I did a project on popular culture. My assignment was to go out on Yonge Street and record as many instances of popular culture as I could find. It was a fun task. I photographed record shops, posters, cars, televisions, fashions, and fast food stores. It led to some interesting photos; shots I normally would not have taken—like this photo in a pinball arcade, for instance. I almost never went to arcades (one of my classmates was addicted to Pac Man) but the assignment gave me reason to go there.
So, if you find yourself in a creative rut, or simply want to try something new, give yourself a photo assignment. It could be stop signs, people wearing hats, triangular shapes, or environmental degradation; the list is endless. You may be pleasantly surprised at the results.
Arcade Scene, Toronto, 1981, is from the Facebook series: Toronto Days
Nostalgia can be described as a sentimental longing for the past. It comes from the Greek nostos (homecoming) and algos (pain) and is thought to have been derived from Homer’s The Odyssey.
With baby boomers reaching their senior years, nostalgia seems to be their drug of choice. Advertisers target boomers with Beatles music, retro fashions, and even long dead actors such as Marilyn Munroe selling perfume. While boomers seem to be lapping it up, not everyone is crazy about the nostalgia bug. Heather Havrilesky writes in The Washington Post, “While griping about boomer nostalgia has become a somewhat common art, the cultural impact of that nostalgia transcends mere annoyance. Through sheer repetition and force of will, boomers have so thoroughly indoctrinated us into their worldview that we all now reflexively frame most current affairs through the lens of another generation’s formative experiences.” Abbey Hoffman might say not to trust anyone under 50!
I myself am a baby boomer. Born in 1958, I was six years old when the Beatles came to North America. I sang “A Hard Day’s Night” in my Grade One classroom, watched the moon landing on a fuzzy black and white TV, and took my Diana camera to Expo ’67 in Montreal. While I have nostalgia for those early years, the time I miss most was when I was in my early twenties, studying photography at Ryerson in Toronto.
The photo at the head of this blog captures the time that I am nostalgic for. It was taken in my neighborhood in downtown Toronto in my first year of study. Everything was new and fresh, conversations were stimulating, photography was invigorating. Several of my classmates from that year became lifelong friends. Since returning to those days is impossible, I can make the journey with my retro photographs. It’s the next best thing.
Gerrard East and Ontario Street, Toronto, 1981, is from the series: Toronto Days
