What is “Fine Art” Photography?

Fine Art Photography is one of those buzzwords that gets thrown around a lot in photography even though if we were really honest, we’d probably say we don’t really know what it means. And too often, it seems like it just gets slapped onto a product for marketing purposes,  as some validation of quality. 

While I have a really good image in my head of what a fine art photography, or a fine art print is, I admit I’ve been a bit stumped to articulate it when asked for a definition. I think that is because it’s not so much of a simple definition or measurement as it is a culmination of experiences and an understanding of the history of photography. 

It starts with understanding that over the last 100-150 years of modern photography, there have been some pretty amazing photographers, who’s vision, and ability to translate that vision through prints, have distinguished their work from the masses.

These photographers have captured the attention of curators, gallerists, and collectors who have an extensive breadth and depth of knowledge of photography, that has come from seeing so much truly amazing work up close and in person. 

If an artist’s work has been regularly shown over a period of time by these curators and gallerists in museums and collector galleries (not the photographer’s own gallery), and has developed a following of collectors, it’s quite probable that it is an example of fine art photography. 

Another place we can look to are photo history books. John Szarkowski’s  “Photography Until Now” or  Beaumont Newhall’s “The History of Photography: From 1839 to the Present” will give you both depth and breadth on what fine art photography is. Newhall was the first director of New York’s Museum of Modern Art’s photography department and went on to serve as curator and then director of the International Museum of Photograph at the George Eastman House. Szarkowski served nearly 20 years as Director of Photography at New York’s Museum of Modern Art, as well as authoring many definitive photo history books. 

We can also look to the community of friends an artist associates with to find more examples. This was the starting point for my own education, when I became familiar with the work of Ansel Adams, then through his books discovered Edward Weston, John Sexton, Alan Ross, and at least a couple dozen other West Coast photographers, all who made extraordinary work. 

Pull on any one of these threads I’ve given you, and you will find an ever widening circle of understanding of what “Fine Art” means. 

But there is another vital component: looking at prints. For only a sliver of time have our phones been the most common way to view photography. And our screens are a disappointment compared to a well made print or even book reproduction. 

If you want to understand what a fine art photograph is supposed to look like, you have to put in the effort to go out and see as many original prints as you can. 

No one becomes an expert on wine from drinking one bottle. If your first experience was with a low quality table wine, you might think wine wasn’t even that great. But if you’ve been able to try different styles and qualities of wine (or Scotch, food, music, beer), you’d likely develop an understanding of what is good and what isn’t, and what you prefer.  Why should we think it be any different with prints? 

The good news is you can experience the best in photography for the cost of gas and a museum ticket. Fine art galleries exists in many metropolitan cities across the world, with new exhibits on a regular basis. You’re probably within a days drive of an art museum, if not closer. Get out and find what is near you, and avail yourself of the opportunities to see all you can. 

It’s only through this pursuit of knowledge and understanding that you can really understand what a “Fine Art Photograph” is, because knowledge, not some arbitrary measurement, gives the label meaning.

And the best news is that it’s fun! I can’t count the number of times I’ve been inspired by an exhibit or a gallery visit, and how it’s fueled my excitement and enjoyment in the continued pursuing of making expressive photographs. 

If you take the time to pursue this knowledge, you’ll deepen your understanding of photography and develop your own definition of what fine art photography is.  It will make you a better photographer and your photographs will be better for it. 

RCS Thrusters – Space Shuttle Atlantis

Earlier this month, I had the chance to photograph Space Shuttle Atlantis at Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The space center had just reopened, and because of the ongoing corona virus epidemic, there were very few visitors that day. At one point while photographing, I looked up, and I was the only person there. Just me and this magnificent machine in a space that is normally flooded with people. It was magical.

Having it virtually to myself made this one of the most enjoyable days of photography I’ve experienced. It was a experience I won’t soon forget.

I was able to work slowly and deliberately, using my Sony A7RII like a miniature view camera to capture the intricate detail and work with the incredibly challenging dynamic range of white tiles in spot light and black tiles in shadows.

This photograph shows the forward reaction control thrusters with streaks from the intense heat of re-entering the earth’s atmosphere at ~17,500mph.

I envisioned these photographs in black and white from the beginning, and the photos I made that day halve already inspired more work. I can’t wait to return.

detail crop from original

Danger of Sneaker Waves

Surf and Rocks, Big Sur, California

A tragic story out of Cannon Beach, Oregon this weekend as a father and his two children swept out to sea, with one child dead and the other missing. died, should remind us all that there can be real danger in photographing near the ocean.

There are lots of ways to get yourself in danger from fast rising tides to sneaker waves. Sneaker waves are usually large waves that suddenly appear out of no where, and can put you into life of death situations. They are rare, but they do happen, and it’s scary to see a wave twice the height of the normal sets appear out of nowhere.

The ocean, particularly the rugged Pacific coast, is a very wild area that demand your respect and tests your knowledge. Even with long hours spent observing and learning the conditions, you can still put yourself in danger. I know of several close calls with photographer friends, and the tragedy this weekend is a sobering reminder of what can happen.

High surf days are incredible to behold, and very photogenic, but never turn your back on the ocean. Make sure you gain the knowledge you need to stay safe. No photo is worth your life.

Time to Make Tracks

Nissan Stadium Parking Lot, Nashville, July 4, 2018

As I walked to my car across the Korean War Veterans Bridge in downtown Nashville, the crazy tire patterns juxtaposed against the orderly parking lines immediately reminded me of the structured disorder of modern artists like Miro and Jackson Pollock, and amused picturing who made these tracks and if the police caught them. I was jealous, because it looked like they had a lot of fun. Through pre-visualization, I knew that I would be able to convert the photo to black and white and bring out the patterns through contrast. It seems like a good fit for my Signs and Wondering series

Cotton Field and Moonrise

The fields of cotton near my house have been captivating me. I grew up in Ohio when corn was the dominant crop, so this is a totally new visual experience for me.  Besides its visual interest, cotton is an iconic crop, woven into the fabric of the American Experiment. None of us would know who Eli Whitney was without the cotton gin, nor can we forget cotton’s former role in the horrible practice of slavery.

In this present age, it’s planted in neat little rows, with highly bred strains designed for maximum yield and mechanical harvesting. While contemplating the past, I could also be in the present and appreciate the beauty of the plant in the here and now. This photo was taken nearly an hour after sunset, with the light and color provided by the incredible purple volcanic sunsets we’ve been having. I wanted to capture the tranquility of a cloudless Tennessee autumn sky lit by the post-sunset glow and a half moon rising over the fields. The beauty of that night is well conveyed for me in this photograph, and makes me interested in photographing more of the crops of Tennessee.

This photograph was the efforts of nearly 2 hours of working the subject through sunset and changing light. I approached it with my initial preconceptions, but turning 180 degrees from sunset, I saw the beautiful purple sky and moon and raced to a field that would let me show these elements int eh beauty I was seeing. I worked through various angles close to the ground and lenses until finally I settled on this wide view and was able to make three exposures before the color dropped from the sky. I’ve been putting more effort into working the scene when my first attempts aren’t creating the visual impact I want, and this night, the hour I spend on my knees in the dirt were rewarded with a nice frame that captures part of the beauty of Tennessee. 

Sony A7RII with Nikon 20mm f/2.8 lens, exposure 30 seconds f/11 iso 640

The Lasting Connection of Prints

When someone has a print on the wall, it creates a lasting connection between the viewer and the photographer. A print on display is unique because it exists in the viewers space on a daily basis. It becomes more than just a quick glance on the bottomless social media feed, or even the impulsive “like” that drives the algorithms. A print becomes part of the viewer’s life, and a point of continued dialog between the photographer and the viewer.  

Like many photographers, I’ve collected prints over the years from friends and artists I admire. Even after seeing them every day for years, they continue to bring me joy, and I can discover new things within them. But they also bring me back to the moment I connected with the photograph, and the photographer. 

That ability to connect is what makes a print so powerful. If an artist or a story moved me enough to put it on my wall, the print serves as a portal to reconnect to that artist and their story over and over again. It’s built a relationship in the way reading a good book does, or a fine conversation with friends. It’s a mile marker, a touchstone. It makes me, as the viewer, somehow more invested in the artist, and every time I view it, renews that investment.  

It’s this “viewer investment” that begs us to give more consideration to sharing our work as prints. What photographer doesn’t want a more invested audience in an era of visual saturation?

At its simplest, that investment is in the photographer’s story and vision, whatever that may be. And a photographer’s story and vision can do powerful things. 

I’ve seen it save the last un-fished ocean, stop destructive mining, bring attention to threatened species, bring back memories of a long lost family member, and so many other things. 

Photography has an ability to connect us to current and historical events, people, places, and things like no other art form. It makes the sharing of that story between photographer and viewer a more personal connection. And it turns that connection into a long term conversation. It’s not gone in three seconds like an Instagram post at crappy resolution, it’s not on a shelf like a book that rarely is viewed. It’s on bold display for all who pass, sharing it’s story over and over again. 

That is why the effort to make prints, sell prints, and display prints is worth being part of a photographers endeavors, and why I, as a photographer and printmaker, am so passionate about making well crafted, expressive prints.

We Choose To Go To The Moon…

I’m pretty excited about the 50th anniversary today of Neil and Buzz taking those first steps on the moon ,so I want to share some of my photos of the space program. 

I grew up vacationing in Cocoa Beach, right next to the launch site of Apollo 11. Some of my earliest memories are of visiting Kennedy Space Center and seeing the rockets at the visitors center. It’s always given me a sense of being able to touch history to visit there, and made what I saw in childhood picture books “real.” 

That fascination has carried over into adult hood. For about a decade, I’ve been working on a project to capture the rockets and other artifacts of spaceflight with the expressive qualities and clarity that is possible in a fine art photograph. 

The anniversary celebrations today seem  an opportune time to share some of this work with a little more context.  I hope you enjoy it and that it captures some of the wonder of that amazing adventure we started so many years ago. 

First stage of the Saturn V rocket that took us to the moon with its enormous F1 engines.
Launch Pad 39A where Apollo 11 launched from on July 16, 1969.
Forest of Technology, F1 Engines, Saturn V S-IC.
Apollo Command and Service Module.

Speaking with Light – The Essence of Photography

My landscape photographs are often about light as much as they are about the subject. Light has a mystery, a majesty, and a power all its own that captivates me. When I go out to photograph, more than anything else, I’m looking for light.

I’ve made this short film to express how light inspires me. I hope it also inspires you to look for the beauty found in light!

Last Across the Pass

Tioga Pass, Elevation 9945 feet, Yosemite National Park

Sometimes a few minutes is the difference between a 3 hour drive home or a 9-12 hour trek around an entire mountain range. This October night in 2016, I pushed it right to the edge. 

Yosemite’s Tioga Pass Road, peaking at 9945 feet elevation, provides access to the stunning Eastern Sierra, but can close suddenly during storms. The Yosemite photographers call this gamble “East Side Roulette”, and it’s a game of “will the storm close the pass before I make it home.”

After an exceedingly windy day exploring aspens with my family, the approaching clouds said it was time to go. I swear I heard the drums from the Braveheart soundtrack driving me to hit the road. If we didn’t stop to eat, it would be three long hours before the next food services. My wife wanted to stop and eat at The Mobile Station, but I convinced her to just get our food to go, the urgency of the storm in my head. I munched down my pizza while driving up the steep drop-offs of Tioga Pass to quickly worsening conditions. 

As we reached the top of the pass, the snow was already starting to fall, as you can see in the zoomed in crop. I stopped to make one last picture as the light faded, as I knew some big life changes were coming soon, and I wanted to mark this personally meaningful day at one of my favorite places. 

Faint streaks of spitting snow that would become a giant winter.

We resumed the drive, and snow started to cover the road, with no lines and only one fading set of tire tracks to follow, and no car lights behind us. I know the road very well, but it was still dicey. The knowledge that we would drop below the snow soon pushed me forward, and I was watching each landmark to measure how far we were from that safe haven. At this point, it was better to continue than go back. And soon we were below the snow, on dark, wet, rainy winter Yosemite roads. On our drive across the pass, we saw no one in front of us or behind us, even after stopping for a few comfort breaks. A few cars passed going the opposite direction, but then all traffic died. We had the road to ourself. 

About an hour later, Flashing Ranger lights greeted us at the Crane Flat gate. We weren’t in trouble. It was just a Ranger closing the road. Eastbound traffic had been closed for some time as evidenced by the lack of cars passing us. And the west bound lane was only open for people to exit the Tioga Road. As my wife looked back, she saw the Ranger close the gate behind us. We were the last car across the pass. 

Sometimes a storm only closes “The Pass” for a few days, but this was not the case in 2016. Once it started snowing that night, it never stopped. The second biggest winter in recorded history was upon the Sierra, that led to over 700 inches of snow in some locations.

I knew something epic was in the making that night, and the experience of being last car across that night is pretty cool. It was certainly memorable, and yes, I heard those Scottish drums from Braveheart driving me on the whole way. 

2016-10-15 17:11:27.088, give or take an hour for DST

Nikon D810, Sigma Art 35mm f1.4, 1/30 sec f/4.0 ISO 800