IMAGE © ANGELA FARIS BELT, Luna Moth.
TO ME, PHOTOGRAPHY IS AN ART OF OBSERVATION. IT’S ABOUT FINDING SOMETHING INTERESTING IN AN ORDINARY PLACE …. I’VE FOUND IT HAS LITTLE TO DO WITH THE THINGS YOU SEE AND EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THE WAY YOU SEE THEM.—ELLIOTT ERWITT
WHAT IS THE PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGE?
Simply stated, the image is made of three components: subject, content, and form. In fact, they constitute every work of art—including other two-dimensional and three-dimensional art, music, literature, and performance. Although the naming conventions used to describe them vary, it’s understood that subject, content, and form combine to create the complete image or artwork.
The subject can be defined as what the image is about—its meaning or concept. In literature, the subject is often referred to as the theme of the work. A photographer’s interest in a particular subject is the reason he or she makes images to begin with; as photographer David Hurn says, “photography is only a tool, a vehicle, for expressing or transmitting a passion in something else.” Just as literature operates for writers, photographs allow artists to convey a message. If the subject is literal, such as a specific person, and you make that person’s portrait, it’s pretty straightforward for a viewer to interpret. But it’s possible for the subject of a photograph to not be visibly present in the image. An abstract or conceptual subject (such as hope or dreams or other things which are not nouns) might only be conveyed through skillful consideration of the other two components: content and form.
In art, the word “content” has traditionally referred to a work’s theme, and the word “subject” has referred to the work’s contents. But to me this usage seems contradictory, so I adhere to the words’ root definitions. Which terms you use matters less than understanding the three components that comprise the image.
While the subject is what the image is about, the content refers literally to the image contents. Image content (also referred to as subject matter) can be defined as persons, places, or things that are visibly present or identifiable in the image. Artists who understand subject and content as separate yet interdependent image components can combine them more thoughtfully to convey meaning. The best photographers closely consider how all image contents relate to their subject for several reasons. First, all content, like every word, carries meaning that operates on connotative and denotative, subjective and objective, psychological, intellectual, spiritual, cultural, political, and many other levels. Second, like individual words in a sentence, each piece of image content has the potential to either clarify or obscure meaning when juxtaposed. Therefore, consciously choosing and including content that refers to your subject is more likely to successfully communicate your message to a wider audience. However, like the subject of a work of art or literature, content can be abstract or nonrepresentational too. In these cases the remaining component of the image—its form—might itself be the subject or might afford the viewer a great deal of insight about it.
To illustrate the difference between subject and content as I define them, I ask students if they are familiar with the novel or film The Shawshank Redemption. Most are. Then I ask, “What is the subject of the work?” Invariably they reply that the subject is an innocent man who is sent to prison and escapes through “a river of … stuff.” Next I ask them to describe its content, and they’re stumped. I suggest that the subject of the work is something we can’t literally see—hope or perhaps the nature of redemption. The innocent man imprisoned, his experiences and the experiences of those around him, as well as his distinctly unpleasant path to freedom all fall under the category of content—the concrete, identifiable aspects of the work that carry its subject (theme, meaning) across to readers/viewers. Recognizing the distinction allows artists to choose and structure content to more accurately communicate about a subject. And how artists arrange and structure contents is almost universally called form.
The third component of the photographic image, its form, refers to all means through which various content is arranged, unified, and presented. Form encompasses the design methods used to compose a work of art. Since the formal arrangement of content dictates the appearance of an image, an intrinsic aspect of photographic form is “the elements of photography.” Also called composition, form in a photograph includes the traditional design elements (line, shape, value, texture, and color), to which I would add quality of light and vantage point. I would also add the media with which the image is made to the list of formal elements, as well as those things that characterize the way the object exists in the world (more on this in Chapter 6). Through conscious use of formal arrangement, successful photographers translate our three-dimensional, objective world into two-dimensional images of it. In so doing, we create subjective interpretations of the world imbued with new meanings.
The interrelationship between subject, content, and form denotes meaning, so it’s important to understand how. Specific to photography, form, is in large part created by the grammatical elements of photographic language, which is what this book is all about. We’ll study this interrelationship as we examine other photographers’ work, so that it comes to mind when you’re making your own photographs.
EXAMINING SUBJECT, CONTENT, AND FORM: THREE PHOTOGRAPHs
Just as content (words) and form (grammar and syntax) allow readers to interpret a subject, these same attributes allow viewers to understand and interpret photographs. By “reading” a photograph’s component parts we can derive meaning. Let’s read the content and form of three photographs and try to determine their subjects. Interpreting photographs can be a complex undertaking, but this method makes it easier.
Image Discussion 1: Interpreting a Subject by Examining Content and Form
Describing the contents and formal arrangement of an image provides a helpful basis for understanding and interpreting it. Throughout this text there are Image Discussions that use the chapter contents to help you analyze how the elements of photographic language communicate about the image subject.
In this case, photographer Dan Estabrook has created a diptych (covered in Chapter 3, Part 3) that is as meaningful as it is hauntingly beautiful. The most significant content of the image is two figures who could represent any of us, since both are dressed as the “Everyman” and neither face is recognizable. Because the image is not a portrait of the person depicted, we can assume he is not the subject. The sharper figure in the right-hand frame, his face scrubbed out in an act of permanent anonymity, is reaching outside his world (the world of the frame), his hand (we presume) extending into the left hand frame toward his twin figure. The twin, whose face is unrecognizably obscured by Estabrook’s use of shutter speed to blur, is fading behind the intruder’s forceful hand above his shoulder. The ghosted, blurred figure is essentially being hailed, though neither acknowledges the other overtly. It’s as though they exist on different planes, which is suggested through the use of two discrete frames. Materially, the diptych is distressed through Estabrook’s use of the tintype process, suggesting historic times; the angles of the prints are offset, not square, underscoring the sense of angst created by the interrelationship of content and the residual evidence of process. All of this I draw from simply describing the image content and form. Through this process we might interpret the subject as the weight of mortality bearing down upon us.
I do not believe there is a single correct interpretation, only more or less accurate ones, and without knowing the artist’s intentions, the proof can only be derived from the photograph. As you proceed through this text you’ll learn how the elements of photography affect subject, content, and form to create meaning, and you’ll begin to implement them more consciously in your own work. (See more of Dan Estabrook’s work in the Portfolio pages of Chapter 3.)
IMAGE © DAN ESTABROQK, UNTITLED TWINS (JOINED); TINTYPES ON STEEL, 10″ × 14″.
Image Discussion 2: Interpreting a Subject by Examining Content and Form
Some images seem more difficult to interpret than others; just remember to describe the identifiable contents you see in the frame, characterize them as best you can, and determine what they mean to you. Images like this one use photographic language metaphorically as opposed to documentarily, but being open to understanding all photographic practices (from commercial to fine art to documentary and everything in between) serves to inform your own practice.
In this still life by photographer Victor Schrager, the placement of objects reduces a sense of depth; they are textured but otherwise austere forms in bright colors (the only recognizable form being an illuminated light bulb). Schrager arranges nontraditional, abstract contents using relatively traditional still life sensibility. Beyond that, the most noticeable thing is that nearly all the contents are out of focus (deliberately so). There is nowhere sharp for our eyes to rest; even the mirrored surface prevents us from pinpointing a single focal point. What is all this about? Well, maybe that the artist avoided showing us detail—through his choice of nondescript objects, mirroring, translucence, and soft focus—indicates that it isn’t about anything seen in the image contents. As a more abstract image, with its attention to lighting quality, color interaction, and design, I might conclude that the subject is an exploration of aesthetics through formal arrangement, or something along that line. Victor Schrager’s images just feel like art, which also influences interpretation.
We might not understand every image we see, but the more images we examine this way, the more of them we do understand. As you move through the exercises in The Elements of Photography, your work will reflect increasingly more conscious, sophisticated use of photographic language and the ability to create meaning in your images. (See more of Victor Schrager’s work in the Portfolio pages of Chapter 4.)
IMAGE © VICTOR SCHRGER, UNTITLED #325, 2008; FROM THE WHITE ROOM S ERIES.
Image Discussion 3: Interpreting a Subject by Examining Content and Form
Some images seem more straightforward to interpret than others, but don’t stop with a superficial reading. There is often more to a professional photograph than initially meets the eye. Image content and form not only imbue images with meaning, but they also affect our emotional and intellectual responses as viewers.
You now know that making successful photographs requires merging subject, content, and form in conceptual ways. This is as true for documentary images as it is for commercial and fine art work. This image by photojournalist Jill P. Mott expresses the feeling of the scene by purposefully structuring its framing, vantage point, depth of field, and motion (all aspects of photographic language). The vantage point from within the moving car includes a man in the corner of the frame—an anonymous driver, out of focus, nearly silhouetted in darkness—looking sideways at three women in an open window. Additionally, the instant the shutter was released one woman stares back at the man with a look of confident defiance. The slight motion and crooked framing of the image underscores the feeling of a “drive-by” that occurs regularly in this area of Lima, Peru, known for prostitution. It just looks like a documentary image, capturing people interacting in a particular place in time, and depicting an unsettling voyeuristic view from a vantage point we rarely see, as Mott places us viewers inside the car as well.
No matter what kind of photography you do, using the elements of photography will help you connect your viewers emotionally and intellectually with your subject. Practicing your recognition of photographic language in other peoples’ photographs reinforces your ability to consciously employ it in your own. Continue this practice on your own, and now that you know the basics of describing content and form, you can move on to the next steps: selecting your subject, and photographing it using each of the successive elements of photography.
You are encouraged from the onset to choose a single topic, genre, or theme on which to concentrate throughout the exercises in this text. In considering topics or related themes, choose something that will interest and engage you both visually and conceptually, since you will spend considerable time building a body of work around it. Try to choose something that you think could be of interest to others as well, since you’ll likely want to share the portfolio of work with an audience.
IMAGE © JILL P. MOTT, LIMA. PERU, 2009.
The chapter exercises provide a framework for approaching your subject methodically, and concentrating on a specific subject allows you to dedicate energy usually spent wondering what to shoot on the more important task of making photographs. By adhering to your chosen subject throughout the chapter exercises, you will deepen your understanding of that subject, create a portfolio of images thoroughly exploring it, and demonstrate an advanced level of control over the aesthetic appearance and communicative effectiveness of your photographs. Also, upon completion of the exercises you will have an impressive body of work possessing a natural thematic coherence.
Remember our premise that all photographs are about some subject? Well, of the innumerable potential subjects in the world, how do you begin to choose? That’s what this section will help you do. Answering the following questions can help you define a subject that’s right for you, or if you already have a general topic in mind they can help you refine it.
1. What are your interests outside of photography? What are you passionate about, what do you read about or think about aside from your photographic practice?
2. Why are you interested in it, and what particular aspects of it most interest you? Is it how it looks, the way it makes you feel, or does something about it intellectually, philosophically, politically, spiritually, or otherwise resonate with you?
3. Which broad genre of pictures most interests you—landscape, portrait, or still life? Are your favorite images conceptual or representational, discovered or staged? Which of these types of pictures do you most enjoy making?
4. How might you merge your interests outside of photography with the type of image making that most interests you? What would you like to study or communicate photographically, and what methods might you use to do it?
FLOWCHART METHOD: MOVING FROM SUBJECT TO SHOT LIST
Another framework for selecting a subject, and one that will help you delineate the content and form necessary to communicate it, is outlined in the simple flowchart that follows. Though not all subjects can be neatly and predictably outlined, this means of brainstorming can still be of help.
First, select a subject by answering the question posed previously. Let’s assume your answer is that “suburbia” interests you. This becomes the broadest definition of your subject.
From there, break it down into the most relevant component parts that comprise suburbia. These component parts will help you hone in on the next level of the chart and bring you closer to defining potential contents. In this case, you might answer, “The three things that make up suburbia are residents, places, and things, but people interest me most.” Write all three categories beneath the Subject on your flowchart, but you’ll concentrate most on what falls beneath “Residents and Others” Filling out all three aspects, however, provides additional brainstorming to help you more fully understand your subject.
CONCEPT AND ILLUSTRATION © ANGELA FARIS BELT.
Chart your subject ideas. Making a simple flowchart that breaks down your subject into component parts can help you define the aspects you really want to explore and why. It can also indicate potential content for your photographs. Perhaps you are only interested in one aspect of suburban life, or perhaps you are interested in all of them. Regardless, putting your interests down in writing gives you a tangible form to help you think about them.
Next, once you have defined the major components of your subject, you can begin to list their attributes—these attributes will become image content in its broadest sense. In our example, “Residents” might include people in their homes or outdoors, as well as other people working, recreating, etc.; “Places” might include public spaces, private residences, and aspects of the suburban landscape; and “Things” might include architecture and other icons of suburban living. Because your primary interest is in suburbia’s residents, you’ll want to continue distilling that into increasingly specific parts.
At the bottom-most levels of your flowchart will emerge what many commercial photographers refer to as a “shot list.” This is a list of images that you might make in order to “cover” or begin exploring your subject. A shot list acts as a general guide; don’t feel as though you are locked into the things you have listed in your flowchart. As you shoot, your understanding of and engagement with your subject will increase, guiding you to refine your shooting or redefine your subject. In the case of residents, your shot list might range from families recreating and attending to daily chores, to city employees helping and maintaining the community. You can choose to approach shooting from a documentary standpoint, or you might decide that your subject is best served through staged portraiture and scenes. The form and style are up to you.
Keep in mind, you can’t just make a flowchart, shoot, and be finished with your project (unless your project covers a one-time event). You’ll want to shoot, examine, and edit your results using contact sheets and work prints (which we’ll cover in Chapter 3), and learn from what they and a critique group of peers (more on this coming up) suggest to you. Then shoot some more, examine, edit, learn, and so on. The photographic editing process is similar to the writing process; rarely is your first draft your final draft; through editing and revision you refine the statement you’re making about your subject. The more you practice writing (or photographing), editing and rewriting (editing and rephotographing), the more efficient you’ll become at hitting your target.
In addition to study and a lot of practice, a few more things can help you gain more from the chapter exercises and on your path to becoming a successful photographer—tear sheets, interdisciplinary research, a strong critique group, and writing an artist statement. These things help you understand the nature of your photographic interests—something I call the thread.
IMAGE © ANGELA FARIS BELT, OBJECTS IN MIRROR, 2007.
The thread is the singular overarching concept or theme that I believe runs throughout nearly every serious artist’s work. Although you might have numerous portfolios, there is likely a single thematic thread running through all of them. If you’re new to photography, then pay attention for your thread to emerge; the sooner you identify it, the sooner you’ll be making the pictures that lie along the path of your real interests.
For example, I’ve defined the thread in my own work; it deals with the dialog between humankind and nature and the ways in which photographic language can translate and interpret it. You’ll see hints of this thread evidenced in the frontispieces and my other images throughout this book. And although my three primary bodies of work (shown in entirely on my website), range from representational to abstract to digitally altered, this same thread connects them all. I didn’t force my work to fit the thread; rather, the thread grew organically from years of practicing photography in exploration of my own interests. And the same will happen for you.
Finally, in order to help find your thread, I advise young photographers to keep your various photographic undertakings physically separated. If all of your serious photographic work is thrown together with all of your snapshots in binders of negatives or on hard drives, and all of your prints are randomly intermingled in boxes, then how can you think about it clearly? To allow you the clarity to really examine your work, it helps to maintain an organized workflow and filing system and physically separate it into discrete portfolios. Start now; it’s far easier to organize a few years of photographic work now and maintain organization, than it is to reorganize the inevitable mountain of work you’ll have accumulated ten years down the road.
Tear Sheets
The first step in helping you find your thread is to collect tear sheets. These constitute a record of the images that inspire you; they come from magazines, the Internet, and from other sources. I keep an image library on my computer, categorized by the photographer’s name, with titles, dates, and media information. I also have some three-ring binders of images saved from subscription magazines and other sources. When collecting tear sheets, don’t discriminate between photography and other media; if the image attracts you, keep it. Look to these images for inspiration whenever necessary. As a collection, they have the potential to reveal aspects of your own interests and aesthetic sensibilities that you may not realize by viewing and contemplating your own images.
IMAGE © JON LYBROOK, CRAFTING A RESPONSE, 2010.
Interdisciplinary Research
I mentioned in the Introduction that conducting research on any topics related to your subject, especially across disciplinary boundaries, is invaluable to your photographic practice. It helps to reinforce and inform your thread, broaden your knowledge base about your subject, and deepen the intensity of your images. So to reiterate, start your research practices by carefully reading this and any book relevant to your subject, thoughtfully study any work about subjects that ignite your passion, and be inquisitive and willing to explore. Avoid limiting your search to information about your subject alone; research how it influences and is influenced by the broader culture, history, religion, philosophy, politics, sciences, social sciences, literature, and other arts. Seek out information shared by others who have been passionate about similar subjects to the point that they have researched and studied, written, or made art about it. Using an interdisciplinary approach to understanding your subject is a photographer’s best asset; it informs your work in ways that empirical visual exploration alone cannot.
Critique Groups: Gaining Feedback
Another method for helping you find your thread is to discuss your work with others. If you never get outside feedback until the day you try to publish, exhibit, or sell your work, how can you gauge its effectiveness or what an appropriate audience response might be? In this respect, critique is an indispensable tool for improvement as a creative professional. At its best, everyone (those critiquing and those whose work is being critiqued) learns and grows as a result of active participation in the process.
If you’re not in a formal educational setting, it’s a good idea to find a few trusted colleagues who can act as sounding boards for your work and for whom you can do the same. Smaller groups of, say, three to five people work very well; it creates a good dynamic and allows ample time to discuss each member’s work in depth. Choose people whose work and opinions you respect, people who can bring unique perspective to the discussion and whose work you find interesting as well. You don’t need to find photographers who do work similar to yours; the idea is to get a breadth of opinions from people who love and are knowledgeable about photography. Discuss the prospect of forming a critique group with them, and set a schedule and goals for your meetings. Above all, hold one another to task.
The critique process can be difficult and challenging, but artists need it in order to grow. The following guidelines should help you better understand critique, provide better criticism for others, and gain more from the process yourself.
WHEN CRITIQUING ANOTHER’S WORK
• Start with what you know. Describe the image, what you see in it, and how it is formally arranged. Address the work as it relates to the photographer’s goals, observing technique, aesthetics, concept, and overall image quality. Then try to determine whether these components add up to a successful photograph. Does the photograph communicate what it was intended to? Be as specific as you can about why or why not.
• Avoid statements such as “I like it” and “I don’t like it.” Liking or disliking an image is not the point; we all have personal preferences. Analyzing and verbalizing what works and what doesn’t is what’s important. Don’t judge your observations as right or wrong; offer them honestly.
• Critique is not personal; don’t make it that way. Direct comments toward the work produced and presented, not at the person who made it.
• Ask questions of the artist whenever necessary to facilitate your own understanding. Also, draw on your related knowledge and your knowledge of contemporary photography in art and popular culture.
• Critique must be honest, thorough, and to the point if it is going to be effective. Negative feedback is necessary, so don’t be afraid to voice such comments in a constructive way, even to friends; this allows them to objectively see problems in their work.
• When pointing out areas for improvement, also offer ideas and solutions about how the work might be improved.
• Remember to discuss what does work in the images. Critique is an opportunity to celebrate successes and provide positive reinforcement as well.
• Be brave. If you’ve given your work 100% effort, then you have nothing to fear. Make work knowing that peers will critique it, and request that feedback to be honest and thorough.
• Critique is not personal; don’t take it that way. Critique is about the work you’ve done and the progress you’ve made, not about you personally. Although it’s your work being critiqued, remember that everyone in the group learns from the discussion.
• Critique isn’t intended to make you feel good or bad; it’s intended to help you learn and grow by indicating areas in need of improvement and celebrating accomplishments and successes.
• Remember that negative critical feedback is necessary and that others in the group are experiencing their own challenges. Identifying and discussing problems helps you and others avoid similar problems in the future. Don’t make excuses for shortcomings or failings; accept legitimate criticism as a means to help you grow.
• Identify what kinds of constructive criticism have helped you improve and use the same methods when you provide criticism for others.
• Take notes on comments about your work, and implement changes you feel are relevant.
Artist Statements: Writing about Your Work
Your initial objectives are to identify a subject for your photographic exploration, and then concentrate on making images and getting feedback. But once you begin to progress and have a number of successful images, you’ll want to have a coherent statement that addresses your work. This statement is not just for others; it will help you as well.
Not all photographic work requires an artist statement; commercial work generally doesn’t. But if you do fine art, decorative art, or documentary photography, you’ll likely be asked to provide one for someone at some point. But since being a visual artist is not equivalent to being a writer, for many artists writing an artist statement is the most dreaded aspect of presenting work. There is; however, a benefit to the exercise of writing an artist statement. It offers us the opportunity to think about our work from a linguistic perspective, thus deepening our understanding of it. The real task is in how to translate visual explorations and understandings into coherent written form that will elucidate and contextualize the work for diverse audiences while not limiting their opportunity for personal interpretation.
Artist statements have their own purpose and life in the world. They are available for viewers at art exhibitions and on websites, they are sent to gallery directors when requesting representation, and they are printed alongside publications of the work. Wherever they appear, they are intended to provide insight into the images.
IMAGE © JON LYBROOK, TEMPLE CALLIGRAPHER, 2010.
There are no strict rules for writing artist statements; however, there are approaches that generally work and others that generally don’t. Here are some guidelines:
• First impressions. As with any first impression, your artist statement should hook the readers and make them want to read more. From this standpoint, less is more. Be brief and to the point, and use language that most audiences will understand. Don’t try to either elevate or obfuscate the work’s meaning with academic language. A statement that’s too complex, theoretical, or impersonal tends to alienate people and prevents them from connecting with your work on a meaningful level.
• Explain your perspective. Write about your work as you see it) Your statement should address your understanding of the subject and the work you’ve created about it. Your interdisciplinary research should give you solid material to go on. If your statement doesn’t really reflect what the work itself is doing, that’s an indication that you’re on the wrong track.
• Respect your audience. Avoid telling viewers how to respond, how to feel, or what to think about your work. Grant them open access to experience the work and allow room for their interpretations.
• Be specific. You are communicating information, so be as straightforward as you can. For example, if your art is “inspired by fundamental characteristics of the natural world’s inner side” (a ridiculously vague statement), then say which fundamental characteristics, what you mean by the “inner side,” and how this inspires you. A salon or critique group can be a good proofreading resource before you publish your statement.
• Address the work; don’t tell a story. Anecdotal or allegorical explanations have their place in literature but rarely (and then only briefly) in an artist statement. Audiences don’t need to know the minutia of how you came to be interested in doing this work. And they never need to know that you have loved photography since you were six years old or that you started a certain body of work as a class project.
• No time for excuses. Artist statements do not exist as a way to validate creative work or to ask for audience approval. Write from the standpoint that your work is valid and worthy of appreciation as it exists. Don’t make excuses or point out shortcomings that you see in the work (remember, we’re our own worst critics); avoid saying, “I tried to …” or “I wanted to….”
• It’s about your work, not you. Avoid comparing yourself to other artists, citing aspects of your résumé or professional experience, and any form of self-aggrandizing. Allow the work to make its own place in the art world, and allow its quality to speak to your own accomplishment as an artist.
• Keep process statements separate. There is no need to discuss process and technical aspects of your work unless these things are integral to what the work is about. Instead, concentrate on your subject and content, your interest and research in it, and your unique approach to it.
The best way to learn about artist statements is to read a lot of them—good and poor ones—so that you’re familiar with what works and what doesn’t. A great source for excellent artist statements is the Portfolio pages of this book, where each artist has provided an accompanying statement addressing their work. Many fine art gallery websites list artist statements alongside the work they represent as well.
CHAPTER EXERCISES: SELECTING A SUBJECT
1. Choose several photographs you admire—they could be your own or someone else’s. Describe their content and form to help you interpret what the image might be about. Share the images with your critique group and discuss your descriptions and the interpretations you come up with.
2. If you already have a tear sheet collection, reexamine it to try to determine if it reveals your thread. Even though the images may be by different artists, there are reasons why you collect the images you do, and they might help you define your subject. Are there recurring genres or themes that you tend to collect? Are these themes reflected in the types of literature you read or in other activities you engage in?
3. Answer the four questions posed in the “How Do I Select a Subject?” section.
4. Based on those answers, design your own flowchart that covers as many possible aspects of your subject as you can think of. Use the most specific aspects of the chart as a shot list to provide clues as to where you might begin.
5. Write a brief (one paragraph) thesis statement outlining the subject you intend to investigate throughout the exercises in this book. Include why you are interested in it. Over time and a few revisions, this will become your artist statement. (You should revise this statement as you proceed throughout the chapter exercises, forming an artist statement as you go. We start with a descriptive paragraph, because it’s not really possible to write an accurate artist statement until you’ve created the work.)
6. Be prepared to begin exploring your chosen subject during the Practical Exercises in Chapter 2. Remember to enjoy the process as you learn!