Narratives, fables, fabulae
Storytelling is as ancient as human history itself, a fact suggesting that it is therefore an intrinsic process of our psyche. Stringing causes with effects, events and speculations, rumors and half truths - creating narratives is comforting. Our specie has the need to spin order out of chaos and to pluck a seemingly coherent story out of confusion. As humans developed over hundreds and thousands of years, so did our culture and complexity of our thoughts. Art, the outward expression of our inner selves, mirrors that process. Early societies had fables, folk stories and religious tales. We have deconstruction and oulipo. This is the reason I find myself at odds, grimacing slightly whenever traditional storytelling is extolled. It has its place, merit and beauty however, my appreciation for it has been tamed by the pleasures derived from reading and viewing highly conceptual works. Being presented a partial image, a slice of a situation, a stark contradiction without further detailed explanation, without a final resolution is more satisfying. It engages our minds, has us fill in the blanks, causes us to participate more fully.
Striving to tell stories through images seems particularly superfluous. After all a visual medium aims to please ocular senses in principle. Great photographs, paintings or drawings are intensely pleasing on the merit of their form alone. The delight at harmonic composition, vivid colors or subtle tonal gradations is viscerally palpable. Images by Dave Hart whom I am happy to know personally, are an example.
Conscious of this personal bias, I am forever attempting to measure how much “form” and how much “content” makes a photograph, or a visual essay, a successful one.
Jon Torgovnik, one of the laureates of this year’s Getty Images Grants for Editorial Photography presents an antithesis in his story about the Israeli Reserve Soldier. Jonathan writes:
This project looks at the face of the reserve soldier in the Israeli army, both as soldiers and civilians. Every person portrayed in the project was photographed twice. One portrait was taken while they were active in reserve service, mostly in the West bank and Gaza. The second was taken while in their civilian life, after they completed one month of duty.
The format of the essay is that of two snapshots placed together side by side. The subjects are positioned in front of the camera in a straight forward facing stance, aware of being photographed. The depth of field is in the medium range, enough to have the subject stand out yet providing plenty of recognizable context. Natural light and outdoors setting is preferred. Here images cede priority to content. In magnificent reversal, the photographic medium becomes the typography of the story, the pictures being the type by which means the narrative is told.
Pulitzer.org has a recorded time line going back to 1917 and since 1995 posts the winning works online. The 2007 prize for breaking news photography was awarded to Oded Balility. In the photo:
“A lone Jewish settler challenges Israeli security officers during clashes that erupted as authorities cleared the West Bank settlement of Amona, east of the Palestinian town of Ramallah.”
The image is disarming in its excellence. It is an example of inseparable form and content captured and fused together in an instant. The woman’s place in the picture, the volume of armed men confronting her, the long line of onlookers framing the image, the ribbons of smoke flowing against them all serve as strong graphic elements which make the image visually pleasing. It is the same exact elements which have quicksilver quality and lead us to inescapably thread a clear narrative plot.
The emerging observation from this brief exercise is that narrative often referred to as “content”, is greatly dependent on the graces of its medium. The formal body, whether by striking presence or subservient recidivism has the power to give flight or cripple a story. Poorly told, even the most interesting plot does not escape the confines of remaining strictly a good idea. Good form, on the other hand, by virtue of its constructional beauty can be appreciated on its own. Therefore, while “good stories” are commonly glorified, this modest entry is a tribute to form.