Two portraits for Two Photographers

Friday Fragment #10

I had the pleasure of talking with my friend Tim earlier this week. Tim is half of

Two Photographers

, an online photography group that he started with

Joanna Maclennan

. Together, they have been mentoring and teaching their growing following for about four years, inviting fellow photographers to share some of their work and insights along the way. Many years ago, before I used to practise professionally, and when aperture, shutter speed and ISO felt like completely alien and algebraic terms, I used to art-direct photographers such as Jean Cazals and Cristian Barnett and watch in quiet fascination as they strategically positioned and calibrated their cameras. I would witness images appear on their laptop screens minutes later as though they had turned base metal into gold. These days, though I understand better the technical processes and compensations, occasionally you still encounter that same thrilling sensation. Most of the time, photography is a delicate balance of trying to set up the camera to capture both what the eye can see and the story that the mind wants to tell. We do all of that via the medium of light and therein lies any alchemy. So, earlier this week, I chatted to Tim and his group about portrait photography, which requires all of those photographic principles listed above, but also the added skill of communication. We need to talk to our subjects, sometimes to set them at ease, sometimes to set ourselves at ease, and often to direct them, or to create something together. I sent Tim a folder of my portrait work from over the years and suggested he choose a few that might be worth discussing. He chose two of my favourite portraits. Giovann, whose face was so arresting. A black and white edit suited the depth and richness of emotion in his Raphael-like stare. A few weeks earlier, I had still been shooting exclusively with the iPhone and had just a few panicked minutes to photograph the restaurant’s pastry chef. I was lacking in confidence that day, doubting my abilities – a disposition I’ve since learned to accept to be quite healthy. Nuvola sat next to the window, the light found the folds in her blue apron, her white tunic and enriched the hue and wave of her flame-red hair. It found the warmth in her eyes and the soft smiling shadows between mouth and cheek and there was very little more that I needed to say or do. I had been anxious and no doubt chattering away nervously, but I got the photo, won Nuvola’s approval and she returned to her corner of the kitchen half a minute ahead of schedule.

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