Small Photography

Picture by Johan Doumont, 2004


The Internet is a strange place. About two years ago Johan Doumont and I "bumped into each other" at one of these photography forums that litter the world wide web. More than 3000 email messages on each side further down the road we feel we have deepened our practice of photography. We also share a photographic scrapbook on the web. One of the key notions around which our correspondence revolved is 'small photography'.

From: Johan
To: Philippe
Basically my thesis is very simple: photograph what you like. In practice this is not so easy to accomplish. When you just start to explore photography, there is no pressure at all. But once you become more experienced, there is pressure from within and from the outside world to conform to a given standard. It can be your own success formula which you feel compelled to recycle, or some external aesthetic model. I try to be completely free from these pressures when I am out there taking pictures. I try not to think: 'Will this picture be successful?' I am trying to avoid 'eyecandy' at all times.
Regards, Johan

From: Philippe
To: Johan
I wonder to what extent we photographers are allowed to choose what we capture. Once, briefly before I came to photography, I was struck by a bout of uncommon lucidity. Wherever I looked I saw the most banal objects in a most fascinating 3-dimensionality. I understood then that introspection is dull, that depth resides not in ourselves but in even the most commonplace object of our daily, physical lifeworld. I think my passion for photography has a lot to do with that elementary experience. When I am looking through a viewfinder, I relive something of the fullness which I shared in those days: everything has more depth, sharpness, texture, an almost jewel-like quality. That is why I can't stand cameras with dull viewfinders ...
Regards, Philippe

From: Johan
To: Philippe
Dear Philippe, I think we are taking a sense of wonder as starting point for our photographical endeavours, aren't we? There's another element which is important. In my opinion, photography should be perfectly blended into daily life. Someone who is travelling in order to take pictures is turning things upside down. Travel photography is interesting only if the photographer would make the journey also without a camera. Almost all of my pictures I can give a place in my daily life.
The picture of the fish bowl was a turning point for me. I saw it at a friend's place where I was repairing a computer. It is a simple object which touched me in one way or another. I have no idea why. Twenty years ago, I wouldn't have dared to make this picture! What is essential is that I am taking this picture because I feel moved to do so just then and there, not because I think this should be photographed for an extraneous reason. I love pictures that do not wear their technical prowess on their sleeve. I like 'small photography'.
Best, Johan

From: Philippe
To: Johan
Johan, yes, a sense of wonder is important, because it is rooted in humility. And humility springs from a modest positioning of the ego with respect to the world. Photography helps me to lose myself. When I am photographing, it seems I am becoming more porous, more accessible for impressions from outside. I need that kind of deep focus. It purifies me. That is also why I like very small camera bags, preferably just one body and a fixed focal length. The absence of choice and the limitations of a single frame allow me to stay more focused.
It seems to me you want to make visible the tension between the familiar and the mysterious texture of daily life. It's a difficult discipline - to continuously balance on the edge of banality. I am thinking of Morandi, who painted cups, bottles and saucers his whole life. I also think the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi has something to do with this.
Regards, Philippe

From: Johan
To: Philippe
Yes, there needs to be mystery in a photograph. Small photography for me is fundamentally 'poetic'. The photographer only suggests the faintest start of a narrative, leaves open a lot of room for interpretation for the viewer. There is no 'meaning' that is imposed upfront. The viewer can start to build his or her own story.
The openness on the side of the viewer is balanced by openness on the side of the photographer. I don't believe in pre-visualisation. Ideally, the image should jump at the photographer out of nowhere. We could call it ‘photographie automatique’.
It is fairly easy to say what 'small photography' is not: no 'eyecandy', no technical fireworks, no predefined formulas. However, it is much more difficult to give a positive 'definition' of it, i.e. to say what it really is. I am rather reluctant to have 'small photography' boxed in by words and concepts.

From: Philippe
To: Johan
In your photographs I see poetry, but often it is barbed poetry. There is an edginess that comes from something that is forcibly incomplete. The fish in your bowl are all hiding their heads. The tree you photographed on our recent outing in Brussels has an amputated trunk and its roots are confined in a brick enclosure. To me your ‘small photography’ speaks of a radical quest for truth.
Regards, Philippe

From: Johan
To: Philippe
Barbed poetry! I couldn’t wish for more. In photography I look for poetry and I hope to find it once ...
Regards, Johan

Another Gabon portrait

Another image from my recent Gabon-trip. I'm only posting it because there was a little discussion on the Medium Format photo.net forum about using Rolleinars for taking portraits with the 'flex. This picture was taken with a Rolleinar 1 close-up lens on a 3.5F and shows that these nifty little gadgets are eminently suitable for the job ...

Time flies. I have been busy with work and hence there has been little time to spend with cameras or digital darkroom. Also, winter continues to put up a spirited resistance against any intimations of spring. Days are gloomy and wet, with melting snow plastering my office window in regular intervals (but, I agree, that is no excuse not to go out with a camera).

In the last few days I have gone back to scanning the negatives from the recent Gabon-trip. Above is one of my favourites. Hard to say why I find this image so fascinating (well, perhaps it isn't so hard; I could say a lot about this picture, but the question remains whether it is to the point at all). I know for sure this is the kind of picture I want to be taking more often.