Composition – Peter Oshkai photography

January 4, 2016

On contrast and balance

I think that, ultimately, what makes an image (photograph or painting) visually appealing is contrast. There are many types of contrast: large and small objects in the composition, empty and filled spaces, dark and light areas (the actual contrast in the photographic terms), warm and cool colours, contrasting colours (e.g. red/green, orange/violet), etc. A skillful artist uses contrast to create an exciting image, and when a dilletant by chance snaps a photo with great impact, it usually prominently features one or more types of contrast.

Perhaps, what makes us like the contrast is our inherent striving for balance. When we are viewing a high-contrast image, we are being taken on a roller coaster ride along the range of hues and grayscale values, and we find the sensation of the loss of control entertaining.

Actually, human tendency to strive for balance is routinely exploited in martial arts, such as aikido or kendo, because when we are taken off-balance, we tend to automatically (i. e. spontaneously and unconsciously) over-compensate and put ourselves in a precarious position. Also, contrast between periods of calm and explosive motion wakes the fight exciting and interesting to watch. On a somewhat deeper level, when a kendo technique, for instance, posesses a quality of contrast it looks appealing to the judges (shinpan). For example, striking a high target, such as men, from a low shinai position (geidan no kamae) is inherently interesting, and such contrast (low/high) in technique has been known to attract recognition in tournaments.

October 29, 2015

Using uncertainty to prolong an experience

I believe there two mutually-exclusive strategies for stimulating viewer’s interest in a photograph.

The first approach is to include many details that the viewer can examine. An example would be a panoramic landscape or a cityscape with great depth of field, where the field of view spans a large distance and every detail is in focus. This image would literally deliver a lot of information and thus would hold the audience’s attention for a long time.

The second approach is a minimalistic one: to include only a minimum of information that is necessary to convey the impression of the subject (a place, a person, etc.) and to leave it up to the viewer to fill in the details. This principle is extensively used in Oriental art, for example, which heavily relies on the concept of negative space.

To me personally, the former approach is akin to brute force (it is almost always possible to overload the viewer with details), while the latter one is more elegant and subtle. When viewing a minimalistic image, the viewer becomes a participant in the process of forming the mental impression of that image. In a way, they take a partial ownership of that impression, and it is known psychological phenomenon that we like what belongs to us more than an object of equal material value that we have no connection with.

Also, I think that people like images that leave out certain details because the uncertainty in the specifics of those details prolongs the viewers experience of interacting with the image. The mind needs time to explore the possibilities, to try different combinations of the missing details before settling on the “final” version of the impression from the image. On the other hand, when everything is spelled out for us explicitly, the element of wonder and discovery is lost, and while we might be receiving a lot of information, the experience is less personal.

April 11, 2015

Foreground interest

In Robert Pirsig’s book “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance“, there is an episode when the riders marvel at the expanse of the prairie and John, one of the main characters, comments that landscapes like that are difficult to photograph, because there is nothing there: “This is the hardest stuff in the world to photograph. You need a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree lens, or something. You see it, and then you look down in the ground glass and it’s just nothing. As soon as you put a border on it, it’s gone.”

Actually, one straightforward way to address the apparent lack of the compositional focus is to include a foreground element that would serve as an anchor point for the composition and a scale reference. In the case of the motorcyclists, their machines or even one of them could have made an excellent foreground.

Alternatively, setting the camera very low to the ground can allow a flower, a rock or a blade of grass to be included in the frame in the foreground. It should be noted that achieving sufficient depth of field becomes an issue is this situation. Even at high f-numbers (f/16 or f/22), it is usually impossible to keep both the foreground and the background in focus (and this is what is usually desired in a landscape). One needs to make choice what to focus on and where to sacrifice sharpness. The ultimate solution is to use composite focus, where two frames with different focal points are taken and later combined in post-processing.

April 9, 2015April 9, 2015

When less is more

Using self-imposed constraints in the way the information is delivered can make the message more powerful. Similarly, economy of information, i.e. how much of it is being transmitted, is also an important concept. Amanda Palmer pointed this out in her interview with Tim Ferriss in relation to music, but I believe it also applies to visual arts and teaching.

In photography, painting, calligraphy, etc., the use of negative space allows the viewer to complete his/her own personal version of the image, given the limited amount of visual clues provided by the artist. Personally, being a fan of Japanese art, I would like to explore simplifying the composition and limiting visual elements in some of my typical shooting scenarios (sports, travel, landscapes, portraits) without necessarily resorting to minimalism.

On a similar note, teaching often fails by providing the students with too much content (for their level of knowledge, duration of the class, etc.) and rarely (if ever) by giving too little information. Leaving something for self-study allows the students to engage with the material and make it “their own”. I must say that having just finished teaching a relatively large course, I am looking forward to limiting the course-related information that I both receive and transmit to bare minimum for the next few months.

February 1, 2015

Children’s books

My three-year-old daughter loves books. Some of her favourites are “Lost and Found” and “Up and Down” by Oliver Jeffers. Because she likes them so much, I started paying attention to them myself and became fascinated with the illustrations and how masterfully they complement the story.

At first, I could not quite put my finger on what makes Jeffers’ images so special. Now, I think that it is how he uses negative space. Both in his text and pictures, what is not shown (or said) is at least as important as what is.

Couple of days ago, I came across Jeffers’ “Once Upon an Alphabet” at a bookstore and liked it so much that I had to buy it, even though it is still too advanced for my daughter’s age. This made me think that books and illustrations (as well as music) that are originally aimed at children and span several generations are probably some of the most important contributions to society that an artist (or writer, or musician) can make, because the audience is at its most perceptive and innocent state.

Not being so presumptuous as to aim for “a giant leap for mankind” with my photographs, as an experiment, I will try to (a) look for subjects/themes that a child could relate to and (b) work more with negative space in my composition.

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