Photographs and thoughts on photography and camera collecting
A while back went on a boat ride on the Hudson. It was a big boat, with a band, bars, dancing and food. During a lull in the festivities I was fiddling around with the camera trying to see what would happen if I threw everything out of focus. This is the result. I quite like it: the variety in the colors and the way the blurred areas seem to fan out from the bottom/center of the picture.
We have three of these small statuettes on a small pyramid shaped shelving unit in our living room. Right next to it is a slightly taller mirror-fronted armoire on which I’m accustomed to leaving cameras so the cat can’t get at them (it’s a little bit too tall even for her, and in any case she’s shown no inclination to try to get up there. Probably for the best since if she did try to get up there she’d probably cause damage). When we have visitors my wife doesn’t like my cameras to be out in the open so I have to remove them. On this particular day I happened to glance down and notice this figure. I’d seen it many times before, but never from this particular angle. I liked the way it was peeping out from between the leaves of a couple of african violets – like some exotic figure in the jungle. I was trying to keep the face in focus while blurring the foreground and background and I pretty much succeeded I think. If I could change anything I’d try to get the figure’s right hand in focus too.
I liked the contrasts: the different colors; the different textures; the fact that one was still living while the other wasn’t. I also liked the minimalist composition. Almost like a little family. In fact, at a risk of falling foul of gender stereotypes, I could almost see this as a metaphor for the typical western family: The large one on the right representing the father; the next largest representing the mother surrounded by the two smallest: the children. And what does the separation between the two groups suggest? Are they estranged? Is this a symbol of divorce in modern society? š
Of course I’m coming up with all of this after the event. At the time I’m sure I was thinking something along the lines of “Oh, how interesting. Look at the way that fungus is growing on that wooden plank.”
According to a post (The Solidity and Stature of NYC’s Central Savings Bank) on the Curbed, New York site:
The Central Savings Bank (currently Apple Bank), located at 2100-2108 Broadway at West 73rd Street, was built between 1926 and 1928 by the architecture firm of York & Sawyer. The bank had been founded in 1859 and was originally known as The German Savings Bank in the City of New York, with its first location inside the Cooper Union building. Just five years later, in 1864, the bank would move a bit uptown to Fourth Avenue and 14th Street, eventually occupying a new bank building that was constructed in 1872. Decades later, during World War I, the bank changed its name to “Central Savings Bank.” Though the name change may have been due to anti-German sentiment, the bank continued to flourish and the trustees banked (sorry) on the Upper West Side’s business and residential development and chose to open an uptown branch.
York and Sawyer was an obvious choice for the new building. In addition to both working for the prolific firm of McKim, Mead and White, York and Sawyer were experienced in designing other noteworthy banking institutions, such as the Federal Reserve Bank of New York on Liberty Street and the Bowery Savings Bank on 42nd Street. The Central Savings Bank commission would be especially stately given its unique location atop a trapezoidal lot adjacent to Verdi Square. With the latitude to design a building free from the confines of adjacent structures, and complemented by nearby open space, the designers were able to create a unique, iconic structure.
That structure was a six-story freestanding building designed in the style of an Italian Renaissance palazzo. Constructed of rusticated limestone, the building was adorned with decoration that would in fact be very fitting for a palazzo. This included the two lions surrounding the clock above the main entrance, cartouches featuring the heads of classical figures and shields containing the caduceus motif; two snakes ensnarled around a staff?which has become the modern symbol of commerce and negotiation. In addition, the exterior features stunning wrought iron doors, gates, grilles and lanterns designed by Samuel Yellin, considered the country’s master iron craftsman during the 1920s. The building is still not as highly decorated and elaborate as its Parisian-inspired neighbors to the south, the Ansonia and the Dorilton, but is instead serious and refined.
The building stands like an imposing fortress, exuding strength and stability, qualities that very much befit a financial institution. And the building is even more majestic inside. Upon initial entry, the visitor is transported into the cavernous and vaulted main banking hall, in which the building’s tall arched windows provide natural light. The 65-foot coffered ceiling is based on the ceiling of Florence’s Davanzati Palace. The main hall also showcases Yellin’s interior ironwork, specifically the bank screens, grilles, mailboxes and signs. And don’t forget to look down, or you might miss the intricate multi-colored marble floor, which has sustained nearly ninety years of wear.
The bank’s executive offices located on the mezzanine level are also highly stylized. According to Christopher Gray, the offices were “decorated by the Barnet Phillips Company” and “included double-height meeting rooms with large fireplaces flanked by iron torcheres, beamed ceilings, wooden paneling and elaborate faux wall painting with imitation garlands and spirals of fabric.” In order to make some profit from the large building, the upper floors were designed to be rental office space. And although these offices on the upper floors are considered plain and less decorative than the rest of the building, there is elegance in their simple design. These offices feature “solid metal doors with inset panels and an upper section of frosted glass,” brass signboards and “walls wainscoted with marble.”
The Central Savings Bank stands as a monument to commerce, consumerism and finance. Through its design, the building fosters a sense of safety and security – a prime example of how architecture can be emblematic of its building’s purpose and function. The architects sought to create a building in which people would be comfortable investing and depositing their hard-earned money. And what better way to represent strength, stability and success than to have the bank designed in the style of a Renaissance palazzo? The words spoken at the bank’s 75th anniversary in 1934 still ring true: “The Central Savings Bank is housed in truly a noble building, its lofty interior and its massive exterior typifying all that the Bank has represented in the past?all that the future may bring to us in the way of health and happiness.”
I recently bought a copy of Photographs from the edge. A master photographer’s insights on capturing an extraordinary world by Art Wolfe (with Rob Sheppard).
The photographs are mostly along the lines of: animals in exotic locations; people in exotic locations; exotic locations all by themselves. In total there are about 130 color pictures (two pictures on the inside of the front and back covers are in black and white) spanning a period from the 1980s to the present. They’re striking pictures and well worth studying. However, they’re not really my cup of tea. While I can recognize the skill and ability required to produce such pictures they don’t move me all that much.
So why did I buy the book? Each picture is accompanied by technical information on the camera and lens used; settings chosen; and where appropriate the type of film used. In addition as Rob Sheppard says in his preface:
For each of Art’s photographs, we have included a section on the nature of the photograph, a short piece inspired by the subject matter of the image. To do each image justice, I often learned something new, especially about cultures and out-of-the-way places.
As a photographer, I enjoy learning how other photographers handle their way of seeing. Exploring another person’s approach to this art and craft can even illuminate your own pieces by way of both contrast and empathy with the work.
It’s this background to each picture, when read in conjunction with the pictures themselves, that I find appealing.
As an example I include below the full text relating to the picture on the book’s cover (see above).
October 2008
Huangshan
Anhui Province, China
Canon EOS-1Ds Mark III, EF70-200mm F2.8 lens +1.4x, f/14 for 1/13 sec., ISO 100I first visited Huangshan, or the Yellow Mountains of China, in 1984. I had been in the first Western expedition to Tibet and the slopes of Mount Everest. On our return, several of us stopped in eastern China to visit Huangshan. This is a sacred place for the Chinese people. In contrast to the grayness and the ice of Mount Everest, it is like being inside a giant sumi brush painting.
I had studied the sumi brush masters of both Japan and China during my college years in art history, and I remembered the imaginative landscapes of those artists. I long thought that they imagined those scenes, maybe from trips to the opium den! When I traveled to Huangshan, I discovered they were much more literal paintings than I had thought. There were indeed landscapes of vertical granite faces, contorted pine trees, and swirling mists.
Since that first visit, I have returned to the area on three distinct trips. Each time I renewed my fondness for this landscape and photographed new formations of the land. What I love about these shots is the scale. Pinnacles of rock rise out of the swirling mists, while tiny pine trees cling to the windswept slopes. The mist and the landscape formations provide a balance of positive and negative space, of light and dark areas.
The nature of the photos
Huangshan has long been a popular location for artists because of its spectacular mountains and cliffs. The pine trees growing on the rocks are endemic (exclusively native) to the area and so have gained the name āHuangshan pineā.
Photo Tip
Fog and changing weather can provide unique views of any landscape. Donāt be afraid of the clouds. Just avoid using large areas of blank clouds in your composition.