I heard numerous times in photo school students say something along the lines of “I photograph to remember.” I think that is an admirable thing to say, but for me it is probably one of the most difficult things to do.

I have been trying to read some of the accounts at The Photographs Not Taken, and while I have not yet gotten through all of them, the one’s I have read seem to focus on memory (which I guess it the point). Try as I might, I cannot actually get a true sense of the photograph that the person didn’t make. Instead I get an understanding of the moment and the memory. This is not a criticism of the entries or the project at all, but rather an observation and starting point for this blog entry.

I have tried and failed at attempting to photograph for memory. Yes, I have taken family snap shots, and even made some more serious photographic attempts to remember. I have often found that when attempting to photograph to remember the camera or the very act of photographing gets in the way of the first hand experience. What I read that was so interesting at The Photographs Not Taken was a fantastic sense of the moment.

As humans, we seem to have fairly good memories. I can remember in vivid detail very specific moments from my childhood, but I cannot describe it like I would if I was looking at a photograph. My memory seems to sharpen itself when I talk with family and friends about shared memories, suddenly things become clearer. What I am trying to say is, that while photographs can help us remember they are not the same as the memories themselves. And remembering missed photographs is also not the same as a photograph.

Instead of photographing to remember, I try to make photographs that I can learn from. The best portraits I make not only tell me something about the subject but the often tell me even more about myself. I remember when I made these photographs, everything I was thinking about was trying to make an image that would tell me something later. I was not necessarily photographing in the moment, but rather I was photographing looking ahead to how it might make me think when I saw the photograph for the first time. This feeling is probably best explained by the words I say to myself as I make what I believe will be my best photographs. I say, “this is gonna look awesome,” or something along those lines. I don’t say “that, what I just took a picture of, looked awesome as I made the photo.” I am only thinking about how it is going to look later.

I photograph more to learn than to remember. Once I have made and then learned from the photograph, I remember it.

As I mentioned in my most recent post about Andrew Bush, looking at several photographs of people driving sounds like it could become repetitive. Thankfully, it does not, because Bush manages to keep interest through varied subjects, movement (not necessarily the cars moving, but the photographs themselves seem to have visual movement), and humor with both the drivers expressions and cars as well as Bush’s own captions for the photographs.

I began thinking (again) about series of portraiture that have a strong repetition yet somehow the photographer and the subjects maintain a sense of interest and variety. The first two people I thought of are quite well known and have been extremely successful with their careers.

Nicholas Nixon has photographed his wife and her three sisters (Brown Sisters) annually for decades. Nixon brings attention to what photography does best, it records the surface and physical features of all subjects. The women age before your eyes. Through both their physical features and emotional representation, every sister ages. The series ultimately describes how a family changes as they grow older.

Rineke Dijkstra is most famous for photographing adolescents on former Soviet Union and American beaches. These images were mentioned twice in the recent post on Conscientious called “What makes a great portrait?” Like Nixon’s Brown Sisters, Dijkstra’s portraits are meant to be compared to each other. Through the simple visuals of a full figure in a static frame we can easily ask who looks more awkward, who looks wealthier, what nationality are they? The variety of the subjects makes the series, it is the only changing element in the photographs that is instantly discernible.Of course there are many other photographers that have a successful series of portraits.

Suzanne Opton, in her series titled Soldiers:

Opton seems to have created an iconic look to her soldiers that simultaneously presents them in a vulnerable way. By having the soldiers lay down upon their return from duty there is an interesting sense of both rest and relaxation from the timing and pose, but yet a strain and tension is present from the very same pose. This tension is ever-present in the soldier’s faces and expression. The portraits look and feel innocent and beautiful, with a sadness in them as well.

On another note, perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Opton’s soldier portraits is that they were publicly displayed on billboards in the Syracuse area.

Lastly, Jeremy Oversier, a fellow RIT student, photographed every fourth year Fine Art Photography major on a couch in his bedroom. As a series of portraits, the photographs document classmates as visitors as well as the ever-changing condition of the couch and room. It is the seemingly little care given to the background that adds so much interest to the series, as does the variety in sitting posture of recent college students. (If you look at the web gallery here you will find the portrait of me).

If there is room to expand this kind of photography, I believe it is in the effort of the photographer to not only try to capture similarities and differences as noticed through a series, but to also take the series and go somewhere with it. Many of the series mentioned above begin to do this, but they all also seem to fall short. I know the intent in most instance was not to make a story as I have suggested, but it does feel like a logical next step.

Perhaps the point is to build up a climax of a series of portraits with no end in sight. I think this may be why I so throughly enjoy the title “Vector Portraits” because in geometry a vector has a beginning and then it goes on forever. With such a title Andrew Bush implies that his subjects will continue to drive on and on. It is easy for the viewer to imagine the subjects driving on and on the first time they see the portraits. I enjoy how easy it is to connect to the drivers and drive with them. In general, I either want this connection and continuation to occur in more series, or I want a greater progression the in story told through the portraits. I don’t know which is more important right now.

I have been attempting to write Part II of my post on aesthetics to talk specifically about portraits since I avoided doing so in the first post seen here.

While trying to think of the proper angle to speak about the aesthetics of portraits I was reminded of one of my favorite photographic series called Vector Portraits by Andrew Bush when I saw this post on Conscientious. As Jörg points out, there are other “well-known precedents” to Peter Snyder’s portraits. I believe that Andrew Bush should be considered one of those precedents, but I am not sure how well known he really is. I enjoy Andrew Bush’s series of people driving because there is a great sense of movement while maintaining a terrific sense of humor. Despite the fact that it may seem repetitive to look at several photographs of people driving, these photographs maintain variety within the constraint.  This variety is amplified once the captions are read along with the photographs. The captions ultimately make the portraits “Vector Portraits”, adding a speed and direction to the image. Indeed, the series is quite dynamic with it’s variety.

Woman Meandering Through Various Parts of Pacific Palisades, CA, in the Early Part of 1993 While Singing

Man Heading towards Tunnel at 73mph on a Sunday somewhere in Southern California on an Afternoon in March, 1992

Upon looking for more about Andrew Bush’s Vector Portraits I discovered that he is having a book titled Andrew Bush Drive published of the series in the spring here. The book cover is below with the caption for the photograph.

Woman Driving South at 41 MPH Down 26th St near the Riviera Country Club at 1:30 PM on a Tuesday in February of 1997

From the Yale University Press Website about Andrew Bush Drive:

The culture of cars is an inseparable part of American life. Whether used for functional purposes or recreation, automobiles are expressions of our personality. They also represent the American ideals of freedom, mobility, and independence, providing a unique personal space that is at once private and public.

Andrew Bush (b. 1956) examines this tension between private and public in his remarkable series of photographs of individuals driving cars in and around Los Angeles—a city famous for its car culture. By attaching a camera to the passenger side window, Bush made these pictures while driving alongside his subjects—often traveling at 60 mph. Taking notes on the speed and direction he was going, Bush created extended captions for the images and called the series Vector Portraits.  

I first learned about Bush at a lecture by Jeff Rosenheim who is the Curator at the Department of Photographs at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. To hear Jeff describe the way Bush goes about making the Vector Portraits is remarkable, I am sorry that I cannot do it justice. Simply try to imagine a car accelerating and decelerating often to try to compose a photograph out the passenger window on the freeway all lit by a bare-bulb strobe. No, he never caused an accident.

My only reaction to such an amazing situation can be summed up in one word; brilliant. The whole process, concept, and final images are all equally impressive. I am excited to see what the book looks like.

The sooty shearwater and the passionate photographer are two entirely different species of animal but are actually quite alike in the distances they travel to find what it is they are searching for.

Measuring only 40-50cm in length, the sooty shearwater claims the longest animal migration ever recorded electronically.

As stated in the Science Daily:

Every summer, millions of sooty shearwaters arrive off the coast of California, their huge flocks astonishing visitors who may have trouble grasping that the dark swirling clouds over the water consist of seabirds. Scientists have long known that sooty shearwaters breed in New Zealand and Chile and migrate to feeding grounds in the Northern Hemisphere. But the details of this remarkable transequatorial migration are only now emerging from a study using electronic tracking tags to follow individual birds.

The flights of sooty shearwaters documented in this new study represent the longest animal migration routes ever recorded using electronic tracking technology: around 65,000 kilometers (39,000 miles).

As photographers, we cover great physical and mental distances when making photographs.

Why does such small bird make such an incredible migration?

These small seabirds cross the equator twice a year in pursuit of an endless summer in which their feeding areas are always at or near the period of peak productivity.

If the sooty shearwater migrates 39,000 miles in search of food — specifically fish, squid, and shrimplike krill — then the passionate photographer covers great distances in search of it’s own food — photographs.

Thank you, I Heart Photograph!

Now, they are putting together this: Is it possible to make a photograph of New Jersey regardless of where you are in the world?

I heart photograph’s latest “real world” project. we’re running a global open call for entries and responses will be included in the exhibition “is it possible to make a photograph of new jersey regardless of where you are in the world?” at the pierro gallery in nj. deadline is february 22nd. full details here.

Alex Baker already has made his image for it, you should too.