The Quandary of “I Was There”

Summary

Reylia Slaby reflects on the challenge of capturing the essence of personal perception in photography, emphasizing the importance of conveying the photographer's unique experience beyond technical precision.

Abstract

In her ninth daily photography experiment, Reylia Slaby articulates the disconnect between the reality she experiences and the images she captures. She emphasizes the significance of photographing not just what is in front of the lens, but what the photographer personally perceives. This personal lens, unique to each individual, is crucial in creating art that resonates with the artist's own emotions and senses. Slaby acknowledges the limitations of photography, including the inability of cameras to fully encapsulate the sensory-rich experiences of a scene. Despite the technical excellence prevalent in Japan, she observes that many photographers adhere strictly to techniques, which can stifle emotional expression and individuality. Her own experience of sifting through 43 images from an evening walk led to a moment of connection with a single photograph of a leaf, which successfully evoked the feeling of being present at the moment the picture was taken.

Opinions

Slaby believes there is a profound difference between capturing an exact scene and capturing what the photographer personally experiences.
She feels that the camera, and even video, often fails to capture the full scope of sensory input that the brain processes.
The author suggests that while technical skills are important, they should not overshadow the emotional and sensory aspects of photography.
She points out that in Japan, the technical side of photography is highly developed, but this can lead to a formulaic approach that may suppress personal expression.
Slaby values the ability of a photograph to transport the viewer back to the moment it was taken, a quality she finds in her image of a leaf illuminated by a solitary light.

Notes from my daily photography experiments #9

Photography by author, Reylia Slaby

As I was walking through the dark streets for my photo of the day, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness each time I looked down at my viewfinder. There was a separation between what I saw and what I had shot. While it is a common predicament often rectified by an hours-long operation in Photoshop or Lightroom, it can be disheartening that it is not there instantly for you.

Each time there is that issue, I feel that it is paramount to use the camera in a way not to capture the exact thing in front of you, but to capture what you see in front of you. I believe there is a stark difference between the two. Each person's mind perceives things very differently than that of the next. This is what gives us our unique taste. We have our own personal lens that we put over everything we lay our eyes on.

Because of this, I have a hard time bringing both what I see and feel into the camera in its entirety. It is not the one sense that absorbs the scene. In the moment I captured this image, it was the hum of the electric light hanging above the plant, the person who nervously walked past, the voluptuous bounce of the leaf in the wind. Even video can’t always capture the full scope of what our brains absorb into themselves.

The question is, in our art, how do we bring us back to that point? Of course, there is the technical side, where we learn to understand the variety of the things and tricks that can aid us in marking the pathway to the point of our artistic perfection.

But, here in a place like Japan, the technical side is crisp and perfect, honed to a near-robotic flux. And yet, it seems that so many people follow the techniques to their own detriment. They can’t escape from the step-by-step pathway to deviate towards a road that is dark, unknown. Where one's full range of emotions might be uncovered for all the demons in your mind to make a mockery of.

For me tonight, as I was clicking through the 43 images I took on my hourly walk, I had let out a nervous sigh. The ones I thought would be good weren’t, and I had thought that today might be a post about the virtues of imperfection. But alas, one image popped up to me.

When I walked past this lovely large leaf, illuminated by a lonely light, I felt that I was there. I took one image but didn’t imagine that it would be the chosen son of today’s post.

In this photo, I can feel that I was there. With the expansive face of the lotus root leaf, and the friendly waving leaves of the avocado plant. I was there, and now that I have this image, I am there. And will be each time I look at this image.