ยฉ Joel Meyerowitz
Watch the Master Work
To learn, you study the masters’ books, you go through their prints one by one. But a print is the endpoint, and it hides the very thing you’d need to see: how they got there, what they were doing with their body a moment before pressing.
In 1962 Joel Meyerowitz was an art director at an advertising agency and had never really photographed. For a booklet he had designed he hired Robert Frank to shoot, and while Frank worked he stood there watching. He saw Frank shooting in motion, while the people moved too, and understood in an instant that a photograph isn’t made standing still in front of a pose. He walked back to the office and for an hour read the street as he never had. That day he quit. His boss asked if he at least had a camera, he didn’t, and lent him one.
What changed Meyerowitz wasn’t a photo by Frank, it was Frank photographing. The movement, the speed, the way of being inside the scene, things you don’t see in a print on a wall, because the print has already stripped them away. You can look at a photographer’s pictures a thousand times and not learn to photograph like him, because you’re missing the gesture that produced them.
That’s why books aren’t enough. If there’s a photographer you want to learn from and you can stand next to them while they work, do it. Watch where they put their feet, when they step closer, how long they wait, what they let go. You’re watching the craft as it’s made. And if you don’t have a master nearby, you become the master, go out and watch yourself while you photograph, how you move, where you hesitate.
A finished photo only tells you it’s possible. The how stays out of it, in the body of whoever made it, in the seconds that don’t enter the frame. Look for those seconds, in the masters when you can see them at work and in yourself every time you go out. That’s where you learn, not on the wall.
Marco Savarese
Editor-in-Chief
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marco Savarese
Marco Savarese is Editor-in-Chief at Eyeshot, the independent publisher he founded in Italy in 2018. He spends most of his year reading portfolios, judging the Open Call, and editing the magazine catalogue. The reading desk is open, and he takes one-to-one Professional Reviews from photographers working seriously on long-term projects.
Who Finishes Your Photograph
NOTE #210. A photo isn’t finished until it survives to where people see it. Paul Strand chose hand photogravure for Photographs of Mexico so the printed copy kept the tonal weight of his prints. Protect the tone to the end, or the worst medium decides for you.
What the Dark Does
NOTE #209. A face lost in shadow reads as underexposed, a defect to fix. Gordon Willis kept Brando’s eyes in the dark in The Godfather and held it against the studio. Before you rescue a shadow, ask what it does; if you can say it, you decided it.
The Place After
NOTE #208. Of a huge event, often only an ordinary place is left. In On This Site (1996) Joel Sternfeld photographed fifty banal American places where violence happened, each with a line of text. Photograph the aftermath, and let the line do the work.
The Photo Made Together
NOTE #206. Street photography teaches you to steal people; there’s another way. In Malick Sidibรฉ’s Bamako studio the youth chose how to be seen. Before you take someone, ask how they’d want to look, and make the photo together.
Write Your Own Rules
NOTE #205. The thing that improves you most isn’t a new camera, it’s a short list of your own faults. Tony Ray-Jones kept a notebook of orders to himself and it shaped Martin Parr. Write your three rules and keep them in your pocket.
Watch the Master Work
NOTE #204. You don’t learn from a master’s finished prints, you learn from watching them work. In 1962 Joel Meyerowitz watched Robert Frank shoot, quit his job that day, and picked up a camera. Watch the body, not the result.
The Work Before the Name
NOTE #203. The worth of a photo and the worth of the byline are two different things. Koudelka shot the 1968 Prague invasion anonymously as ‘P.P.’ and revealed it sixteen years later. Photograph what must be photographed even when no one will know it was you.
The Subject You Run From
NOTE #202. The strongest subject you have is the one you’d rather not photograph. Ishiuchi Miyako went back to Yokosuka, the occupied base town she was taught to fear, and made it her life’s work. Point the camera where it’s uncomfortable.