slow photography

“The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera." – Dorothea Lange

In an article by Tim Wu on Slate.com this week I learned about something called “The Slow Photography Movement.” Basically, slow photography suggests that people taking pictures might do well to actually make the time to look instead of firing off a barrage of digital captures and relying on the LCD monitor to show them what they just saw. I think it’s worth considering.

Wu writes: “Photography is so easy that the camera threatens to replace the eyeball. Our cameras are so advanced that looking at what you are photographing has become strictly optional. What gets lost is the idea that photography might force you to spend time looking at what is in front of you, noticing what you might otherwise ignore.”

I’ve long been an advocate of the process of photography. Bringing the viewfinder to my eye, arranging things within the frame, moving into a quieter more thoughtful place, lingering on and carefully studying what’s before me has always been the joyful part of photography. When I was a kid toting around my Rocket Brownie camera, surely the pleasure of shooting came from the experience, not the resulting photos. I remember lots of times when I’d simply make a frame with my thumb and index finger, just so I could see what something might look like photographed. I think even today I am transformed more by the act of photographing than by seeing the finished product. Especially when I remind myself to: t.h.i.n.k a.b.o.u.t w.h.a.t. i a.m. d.o.i.n.g.

Slowing down is a good thing. Think about it in terms of eating or drinking or having sex or talking to a friend or driving or just moving through the day.

Or looking.

I love that photography has taught me to slow down and see. That's been the best part of the whole journey.

(And yes, I am very pleased to have captured the above image of Caleb and Ibrahim at the orphanage. But I must admit: watching the scene unfold, noticing each detail of it, patiently waiting for the "decisive moment" and enjoying the dance and the connection that was happening between the two boys brought me a lot of satisfaction. Enough if I hadn't made the picture, I believe I still would have walked away happy and slightly changed for the better. Having the picture in my hand now, though, does allow me to return to the excitement of discovering this scene, and, as I spend more time with it, I see things that I wasn't consciously aware of at the time I squeezed the shutter.)