08

What Role Do the Lines and Shapes Play?

THE CAMERA HAS A WAY OF TRICKING US into believing it sees the world the way we do, immersed as we are in three dimensions and the sensuality of real life. It tricks us into thinking we photograph trees and buildings, people, and flowers—whatever it is you point your lens at. But the final image is an interpretation in line, shape, tone, and colour of what we saw. It is a graphic thing, and like all graphics, the materials with which we make them are simple: point, line, and shape.

I say this because we too often forget this. We are seduced by the depth of the real world and everything that’s going on in front of the lens; it is only later, when we return to the final image, that we see the lines do not line up, the shapes do not successfully represent the person whose spirit we wanted to capture, or the energy of the scene we wanted never to forget. As it is with all of photography, the trick is to be conscious—truly aware—of what the lines are doing. Questions can help us with that perception:

• Where are the lines leading my eye? Is there a vanishing point? To where does that point take me?
• Do those lines have energy to them? Are they static horizontals or energetic diagonals?
• Do the lines intersect in ways that might later surprise me? The power lines running through my subject’s head, for example?
• Do the lines connect with the frame in ways that help or hinder the visual journey around the photograph?
• Do the lines form shapes?
• Do the lines and shapes please me? Are they interesting? Sensual? Strong? Delicate?

Beyond questions that help bring our awareness to the graphic possibilities for the image itself, perhaps the most important question becomes this: How can you use or change these lines and shapes to help write the photographic poem or story you want to tell? What choices can you make to have that silhouette of a cowboy look the most like a cowboy possible? A silhouette is just a long line, filled with black, that describes a thing. But it is in our choice of moment or our position relative to the man himself that gives that silhouette its best chance at being the best line possible, one that—for anyone who wasn’t there—can mostly clearly describe that it’s a cowboy, sitting on a hill, shoulders slumped and tired. Or is it just a dark blob on the horizon?