Sunsets: noticing beauty of common events

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“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds

Visual impressions are inherently subjective, so it is a fundamental challenge to prescribe a recipe for an “impressive” photograph, either in terms of the subject or the technique. The are some guidelines, though, that can increase the chances of a particular image being noticed or stirring emotions in people. Typically, these guidelines are rooted in human phychology, more specifically, in phychologycal traits that have developed through years of evolution.

One such trait is that rare events have more emotional impact than common ones. For example, sunsets are more spectacular than solar eclipses, but the latter ones are more memorable, because they are far less common.

Photographers are in a unique position to make even commonplace events memorable. One way to make everyday events more impressive is to highlight their exceptional surroundings or circumstances. For example, I don’t notice the splendor of most everyday sunsets in my home town, but I remember every detail of the one my wife and I watched from Piazzale Michelangelo in Florence during our first trip there.

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Omitting details for smoother experience

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When we view objects from a distance, we do not see small details, and therefore, the objects appear smoother than they really are (when viewed from up close.) If we deal with time instead of distance, we subconsciously draw an analogy between the two, as Daniel Gilbert illustrates in his “Stumbling on Happiness“, so similar loss of details occurs when we think about events that are separated from the present moment by a stretch of time (either recalling the past or imagining the future.) Our minds fill in the lost details by spreading the remaining information over time, essentially performing an interpolation similar to what a Healing Brish tool in Photoshop does with pixels in photographs during retouching. As a result, the recalled or imagined events appear smoother, softer, less irritating than the actual experience. In this sense, time really does heal.

This has significant implications in photography. It has been demonstrated that reviewing photos of past events actually shapes people’s impressions of their experiences of these event (that is why it makes sense to lug the heavy camera while walking around a new town!) So, taking travel photography as an example, is it better to take cliche postcard photos of the place that do not add many new details (e.g. a distant view of the futuristic Shanghai skyline, which is familiar to many people) and therefore leave a smooth, comfortable impression or to shoot more personal images, with details, textures and patterns that convey the essence of the experience of being there (e.g. a narrow, run-down alleyway in Shanghai)? I think, it depends on the audience. Another fact from psychology is that people view experiences that they closely associate with, i.e. ones that “belong” to the them, more positively (e.g. we tend to like our old cars, homes, clothes, places where we live, people, who live with us, etc.) Thus, people, who have walked along run-down alleyways of Shanghai would appreciate the images that re-create that experience, while those who haven’t spent much time there or did not take time to explore the city outside the touristy areas would likely prefer the postcard version. After all, the postcards are popular for a reason.

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California dreaming

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Too much of a good stuff could be not so good, if it is monotonous. We have been having a stretch of incredible warm summer weather in the Pacific North-West, and I overheard one local man saying to another: “I hope it won’t turn into California.”

Granted, these people were both runners, and training outdoors is much more comfortable in cooler weather. Still, I think that this attitude shows that it is important to have variety in whatever we experience, even if things seem to be pretty good at the moment. At the very least, variation would make us appreciate the “ups” more and help cope with future “downs” by putting them into perspective.

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Museums

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In many museums around the world photography is allowed, provided that no flash or tripod is used. I suspect that both restrictions are made for the convenience of other visitors rather than to prevent photographers from taking high-quality photos. I find this totally acceptable, as it would be extremely tedious to catalogue the museum’s collection anyway. Instead, I think it makes sense to capture the experience of visiting the museum, and for this task, modern cameras with their excellent low-light performance are more than adequate.

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During my visit to the Sforza castle in Milan, I did not even take my fastest lens, instead, I used Canon’s Canon 24-105mm f/4 L IS USM lens on a 1D X body, which gave me ability to zoom in on details of particularly striking exhibits and to capture candid shots of other visitors. In Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam, I used my iPhone to take photos of tourists enjoying some of the most striking works.

I often use my camera in museums purely as a note-taking tool. I take snapshots of the works of art themselves and of the side panels that provide reference information (in the hope that some day, I will actually make time to review these notes and perhaps even make some use of them).

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On communication

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Nowadays, almost all tourists carry digital cameras, and a huge number of people take selfies as they travel. I often have fun taking sneaky photos of people photographing themselves, and I find it ironic that while the purpose of taking selfies is obviously to communicate with others (to share them of social media, etc.), people ask others to take their photo for them more and more rarely – the selfie mindset replaces this form of communication.

Of course, asking a stranger to take a photo has disadvantages. For one, there is a psychological barrier of striking a conversation. Perhaps, more importantly, there is no control of how the person would compose a shot. In my experience, the chance of getting a reasonably good photo by asking a random tourist to take it is less than 50%. More often than not, my face would end up dead centre in the frame and/or out-of-focus.

So selfies are not so bad in principle. Perhaps, the premise of taking a selfie is also useful when you want to take a sneaky shot of someone or something else. In “Ronin” (one of my favourite movies) Robert De Niro’s character would not have had to resort to tricks of asking someone to take a picture of himself if he had had an smartphone with a Chinese-made “selfie-stick”.

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Flowers and cannonballs

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Sforza castle is within an easy walk from the Duomo, in the heart of fashionable Milan. I wondered around in the inner court of the castle when waiting for my time slot to see Leonardo’s “Last Supper” at the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie, which is also located nearby. A couple of other tourists were also killing time for the same reason, sitting on benches by the colourful flower beds filled with poppies.  

The location of the castle in the middle of a modern metropolis is in sharp contrast to the deep moats, surrounding its high walls, the original purpose of which was clear – warfare. A man was throwing frisbee to his dog in the grass-covered moat, and I could not make up my mind what was more out-of-place – this peaceful scene or the stone cannonballs piled up in the moats. I think it’s the former; the calm of a modern city life and seemed like a superficial patina on the tough nature of the place.


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Waiting for the “Last supper”

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The only way to see Leonardo’s “Last supper” without making a reservation several weeks in advance (which I neglected to do) and without going on one of the overpriced city tours that include a visit to the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie (which were all booked anyway) is to show up at the ticket office at the opening time and buy a ticket for the first available time slot.

After I did that, I had a couple of hours to kill before my designated time. I spent them wondering around in the Sforza castle and its vicinity, taking pictures of random street corners and patterns along the way. Most of these sites are so obscure, that I actually forgot about taking the photos until I reviewed my files a couple of months later.

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Work in progress

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Amazing thing about Gothic cathedrals is that they take enormous amounts of time to construct and require restoration immediately after being built. The amount of detail in their stonework is so great that the restoration process never stops – it just moves around the perimeter of the building. I was told about this by a stone restoration worker, who took a break from his work on Lednice castle and came down from the scaffolding to ask me about my camera. It turned out that he was a photo enthusiast too. Too bad that we did not have a common language to speak, so we had to resort to a mixture of Czech, Russian, English and German – both of us understood different, non-intersecting subsets of these languages to various degrees.

During the recent trip to Milan, I had a chance to take some photos of the people working on the cathedral. Since my research is related to acoustics, I was particularly interested in the work of acousticians, who were sampling the sound of the organ by moving the microphone to various locations in the nave and recording several repeating notes and musical fragments.

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Freedom of choice

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In Japan, travel agencies promote pre-packaged trips, where everything, including every single meal are pre-determined. This level of planning, where travelers have zero choice once they have subscribed to the trip is probably unique to Japan, but there is some logic to it, as having too much choice results in wasted mental and emotional energy and, consequently, lost opportunity to actually experience the trip (the philosophical paradox of the Buridan’s Ass is an extreme example of this).

Personally, I prefer when some travel plans are set in advance (the planning process itself is an important and exciting part of the trip), but some details are left to be finalized on the spot (this certainly applies to the menu choices of each meal). The balance between giving only few prescribed options and allowing some freedom to customize the experience is tricky. In a sense, it is like selecting a watch face of an apple watch: you have many options to play with, but not enough to paralyze you with indecision. 5D_MG_2880_06-18-10-Edit.jpg

Stonework

AA5Q4986_05-21-2015-Edit.jpgWhen I climbed to the roof of the Duomo do Milano and looked through the layers of intricate gothic stone carvings at the streets below, all I could think was that it looked like lace. I had a similar impression of the Doge’s Palace in Venice and, most recently, of the Alhambra Palace in Granada. What distinguishes the gothic cathedral for me is that it looks like its elements are flying upward, as if in an explosion of vertical lines and tiny details. I tried to show this by using a wide lens (Canon 16-35mm f/2.8L, which distorts the image in favour of keeping the straight lines straight).

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In contrast, the carvings in Alhambra did not look particularly dynamic. Instead, repeating patterns lead the eye to infinity, which, in fact, is one of the techniques of the muslim art that conveys the infinity of the universe. For close-ups of these patters, I used a telephoto lens to visually compress the perspective.

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