Charcoal
In my world, there are 65,536 shades of gray (in the 16-bit digital world, that is). In it, there's no absolute black or white, just a spectrum of tone that draws me in - charcoal, if you will.
*For illustrative purposes only.
Within this space, shapes, patterns, and shadows dance inside a simple rectangle. I'm inviting you into my first-person point-of-view to see what I see. These images aren't just beautifully halted records in time; they’re also distorted, fuzzy, and resemble my memory.
Black-and-white photographs reveal a separate realm for subjects or events - a space removed from the everyday. Without color, attention sharpens on the artistry within form, composition, and the interplay of light and shadow.
My fascination with monochrome imagery traces back to those classic movies that flickered on our black-and-white family TV - Noir and comedy, each framing a different reality. It deepened with Hollywood portraits by Yousuf Karsh and the perspectives captured by photojournalists and documentary filmmakers. As a kid, that monochrome world felt more genuine than the colorful one around me.
At fourteen, my father handed me a used Calumet 4x5 view camera, suggesting I learn product photography for his printing company. But I was enthralled by the lensboard's movements, how the tilt, shift, rise, and fall shaped and distorted the image. It created an exciting and somewhat strange vantage point within my otherwise mundane world. A sort of alternate reality.
Even now, I infuse most shots with some form of tilt-shift or a razor-thin depth of field. There's an almost painterly quality to mastering this technique, transforming an image into a unique and captivating work of art.
Another aspect of the 4x5 camera was a huge learning curve for me, but ultimately, this feature changed how I approach composition entirely. The image is upside down in a view camera unless you have a reflex viewing hood. The grid on the bright ground glass quickly became my best friend - I immediately saw my shots improve due to an adherence to the rule of thirds, the golden ratio - and knowing that my shots were level and where the center of the frame was in my shot.
Lastly, taking all these “rules’ and breaking every one of them was not only an exciting prospect, but I quickly learned the difference between a brilliant accident and a just plain dumb idea. This rule-breaking methodology is part of every shoot I engage in. I get my safety shot - straight-up beauty in approach, followed by playful, followed by death-defyingly strange.
It's about creating something unforgettable, isn't it? This is the essence of my approach.
