I read a story in the New York Times about British photographer Terrence Donovan this morning that got me thinking about a whole lot of things at once. Donovan's work was and still is vibrant, fresh, experimental and spontaneous. Although he dabbled in many genres, he was most well known for his fashion work. While browsing some of his photos, I noticed a stark difference in the style of his photography compared to what I see today. Donovan's photographs are full of flaws; his own shadow sometimes appears in the bottom of the frame, lighting is sometimes uneven on the models, compositions are sometimes unbalanced, etc. but I love each and every one of them.
Virtually flipping through my iPad version of the latest issue of Vogue did not yield the same satisfaction. Each picture in the esteemed tome was perfect, not a hair out of place not a single misplaced shadow. Flawless and frankly, lifeless.
Over the years our idea of beauty has changed, particularly with regard to women. Back in the sixteenth century when Peter Paul Rubens was painting huge canvases of the fairer sex, they were not waif-like and angst-ridden rather, they were curvaceous and unencumbered. In fact, what we regard now as overweight was indicative of health and prosperity back then.
So what happened? Why is it that nowadays the idea of beauty and perfection is tied into unblemished skin, chiseled features, and bodies that appear to be on the brink of starvation?
When I shoot portraits, one of the things I discuss with my subjects is the idea of symmetry or lack thereof. I'm not attracted to perfection, I never have been so the idea of a face with almost perfect symmetry is not appealing to me. In fact, having now shot countless faces, I can say with confidence that a perfectly symmetrical face simply doesn't exist. One eye maybe smaller than the other, the right one may sit higher than the left, our lips maybe too big or too small, our nose may lean to the right or left, etc. but this is what makes us who and what we are.
I've certainly gone too far in Photoshop once in a while, ironing out this wrinkle and that wrinkle and how about if I just push the neck in like that and maybe elongate it to accent this or that? At the end of a process like this, I actually feel like I've betrayed the person I have photographed.
To me, those little "flaws" are what attract me to my subjects in the first place. There's nothing more thrilling to me than capturing a person's essence while maintaining all of their physical idiosyncrasies.
So close up that copy of Elle and Vogue and Mirabella and embrace the person you are. Don't long to be someone else or compare yourself to a two-dimensional mannequin, because all the beauty you seek is already in your heart and, once you find that, it will transform your outer self into something entirely beautiful and authentic.
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Virtually flipping through my iPad version of the latest issue of Vogue did not yield the same satisfaction. Each picture in the esteemed tome was perfect, not a hair out of place not a single misplaced shadow. Flawless and frankly, lifeless.
Over the years our idea of beauty has changed, particularly with regard to women. Back in the sixteenth century when Peter Paul Rubens was painting huge canvases of the fairer sex, they were not waif-like and angst-ridden rather, they were curvaceous and unencumbered. In fact, what we regard now as overweight was indicative of health and prosperity back then.
So what happened? Why is it that nowadays the idea of beauty and perfection is tied into unblemished skin, chiseled features, and bodies that appear to be on the brink of starvation?
When I shoot portraits, one of the things I discuss with my subjects is the idea of symmetry or lack thereof. I'm not attracted to perfection, I never have been so the idea of a face with almost perfect symmetry is not appealing to me. In fact, having now shot countless faces, I can say with confidence that a perfectly symmetrical face simply doesn't exist. One eye maybe smaller than the other, the right one may sit higher than the left, our lips maybe too big or too small, our nose may lean to the right or left, etc. but this is what makes us who and what we are.
I've certainly gone too far in Photoshop once in a while, ironing out this wrinkle and that wrinkle and how about if I just push the neck in like that and maybe elongate it to accent this or that? At the end of a process like this, I actually feel like I've betrayed the person I have photographed.
To me, those little "flaws" are what attract me to my subjects in the first place. There's nothing more thrilling to me than capturing a person's essence while maintaining all of their physical idiosyncrasies.
So close up that copy of Elle and Vogue and Mirabella and embrace the person you are. Don't long to be someone else or compare yourself to a two-dimensional mannequin, because all the beauty you seek is already in your heart and, once you find that, it will transform your outer self into something entirely beautiful and authentic.
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1 comments:
"I've certainly gone too far in Photoshop once in a while, ironing out this wrinkle and that wrinkle and how about if I just push the neck in like that and maybe elongate it to accent this or that? At the end of a process like this, I actually feel like I've betrayed the person I have photographed."
I've done the same & feel the same. Part of it is feeling an invisible pressure to deliver a 'perfect' image, with the public now so aware of 'Photoshop' and asking the question, 'So you can photoshop that out, right?'
I try to keep my editing to a minimal amount, so the person looks like they do 'in real life'.
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