Baking Mixes brings to mind recipes. The recipe for this photo comes via Lee Friedlander. That is: organize a large amount of information in a dynamic composition. Friedlander is a master of this approach. For documentary photography, it seems the more information, the better. It tells us a lot about the culture and society of a specific time and place. I shall keep on photographing the social landscape with a few different recipes, and hopefully learn some new ones before I’m done.
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.
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.
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!
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.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
When it comes to documentary photography, the more visual content, the better. The information, i.e., the visual content, in a photograph can tell you so much, especially when looking at it in a historical context. In the above photo there is so much more to be learned with the variety of elements than if I had zoomed in on just the storefront, or just the on cyclist. For instance, we can see that children’s car seats were not yet required–the child is sitting on his mother’s lap in the front seat. Sony Walkmans were being used; the cyclist is carrying one. And the bicycle is a ten-speed touring bike–mountain bikes were not yet a thing. Lucky Variety has a hand-painted sign, and sells cassettes (not LPs or CDs). The phone number for the business doesn’t have the 416 area code in front of it.
I’ve been a fan of Lee Friedlander since I discovered his photographs in 1978, in a book titled Concerning Photography. His photos are bursting with creativity, intelligence, and deadpan humour–they seem to be the visual equivalent of jazz music. He has been one of my main sources of photographic inspiration over the years.
Lee Friedlander, famous for his pioneering photos of the urban social landscape, has a talent for filling his photos with visual content without making them seem overly crowded. Eric Kim writes on his blog, “Friedlander was very conscious of how he framed his scenes, and wanted to add more complexity to his shots through adding content of interest.”
He accomplished this by using a wide-angle lens—usually a 35mm. That way objects in the foreground can remain in focus along with background elements. Though complexity is not always the answer, it certainly adds interest.
It’s something to think about when you take photos. While minimalism may work for some photos, when deciding whether to leave something in the photo or crop it out, I usually leave it in.
.
.
.
.
I’ve been a fan of Lee Friedlander since I discovered his photographs in 1978, in a book titled Concerning Photography. His photos are bursting with creativity, intelligence and deadpan humour–they seem to be the visual equivalent of jazz music. He has been one of my main sources of photographic inspiration over the years.
Lee Friedlander, famous for his pioneering photos of the urban social landscape, has a talent for filling his photos with visual content without making them seem overly crowded. Eric Kim writes on his blog, “Friedlander was very conscious of how he framed his scenes, and wanted to add more complexity to his shots through adding content of interest.”
He accomplished this by using a wide-angle lens—usually a 35mm. That way objects in the foreground can remain in focus along with background elements. Though complexity is not always the answer, it certainly adds interest.
Friedlander also welcomed foreground obstructions such as poles and trees as a way of creating visual interest. He explains, “Somebody else could walk two feet away to get those poles and tress and other stuff out of the way, I almost walk two feet to get into it, because it is a part of the game that I play. It isn’t even conscious; I probably just drift into it… its like a found pleasure. You’ve found something that you like and you play with it for the rest of your life.”
I have included some photos on this post that are my attempt to speak the “language of Lee.” They remind me why I love taking photos. In his words, “You don’t have to go looking for pictures. The material is generous. You go out and the pictures are staring at you.”
.
.
.
.
