Back in the days of film, there was a physical object, the film itself. And whether it was a positive slide and thus the end of the line, or a negative which could lead to prints, there was a tangible 'thing' that you could point to and say, "That is my photograph". In the days of digital, we seem to have lost that. Yes we have been the beneficiary of all of digitals advances, such as exact backup copies, cost per shot, maleability in post-production, etc. But I've got 46585 pictures in my Lightroom database. Looking at each one for 5 seconds, it would take you over 60 hours to look at them all. Now, how many of them exist as more than magnetic polarity on a couple of hard disks? How many of them do I have prints of?
Lately I've been reading books and news stories about ICP finding boxes of Capa's negatives, or about photographers in the 1920's purchasing prints from their old timers like Atget. Back then the print was the final product, a final work of art. Variations inherent in the analog photographic process guaranteed a uniqueness to each print. I realize that we're in a new age, and some could argue we're in it's infancy, but I think the subject of what is a photograph, bears some thought. I could sit here and print just one copy of one of my photographs and sell it. A unique work of art. But what if I went and printed 5 of them? Or 50, or 5000, or the extreme case I guess would be that that portrait in Time? Time has a circulation of almost 4 million. Why are each of those photographs worth less than if I had only printed one copy? Isn't art about getting an emotional response from the viewer? It's a portrait about communicating the subject to the viewer? Why does there being other pieces of art like it detract from someone's experience of the work. I guess that's a big question of Warhol and the people at Christie's, but I still think it's an interesting question.
Anyway, lately I've had a bit of a conservative streak in me. I want there to be a final product to my work, so finished photographs have started to get printed. Usually 8x12 or so on 11x14 paper. Then they get put in sheet protectors and into print boxes. I don't know why but it makes me feel better that there is a physical final product at the end of the creative line. Something to show for my work. I guess I've just moved the analog further down the line, but it's still there.
I also notice things, often things I want to change, in printed photographs that I don't on screen. And I've got a good screen and an excellent screen to printer workflow so the two are very close to one another visually. Somehow it's just different on paper. Some people say the difference is in that light is reflected off of the print, versus being backlit, and that are brains are just more used to processing that sort of visual information. Maybe. That would explain why people print out emails to read them, but I guess it doesn't explain why chromes look so good through a loupe on a light table. So it becomes an iterative process of print, edit, print. Not the best on ink usage, but it seems to lead to a more satisfying final image.
So prints have become current answer to this question of a final photograph in the digital age. But I'm more than willing to hear other people's thoughts on the subject, so please, comment away.
I think it has a lot to do with our wish to be somehow remembered when we are gone. Physical proof, I think, is more enticing than the one that would have to be acted on to be seen. Hence the urge to print and store your photos.
My roommate is writing diaries. She always did and will do. She prolly has tons on lil booklets with stories of her life written in them. Why is she doing it? For the exact the same reason - she wants to be remembered the old school way. Few weeks ago she had a dream that somebody was in our house and wanted to kill her... she was in her bed, with closed eyes, crying in fear that someone will kill her in a moment, and her strongest thought was: OMG I wrote about X in my diary before I went to sleep and the world will have that story as my last words before death.
I think everyone has something like that. I also have mine... when will it materialize? I don't know, but I do want to leave a physical proof of my existence too. If I were you, I would print every portrait that I really love, and store them in some box/capsule... let the people to come see it and love it as much as you did.
Photographs look best printed. Digital does not change that. A photograph is not real when it is not printed, it is in a stage of virtuality just as when a positive slide is projected to a wall.
It's been bugging me lately too and to make it stop bugging me, I've decided to download one of those book-making programs and print my own photo books.
It's funny, but I was just discussing this with someone this weekend. I had attended a social event that was full of photographer and models and quite a few photographers had brought their books with them. Having gone the route of film + scanner, I don't often have actual prints of my shots anymore, and prints actually fascinate me. There is truly nothing else like holding a print in your hand being able to zoom in at the parts you want without having to use a mouse to manipulate an image. It's kinda like reading a book. I don't know why reading something on a screen is so different from reading from something I'm holding in my hand.
It doesn't really make any sense. Your eye can still scan an image or a book the same way whether it's on a screen or printed out, but somehow, it just feels different. I'm sure there is probably some kind of psychological reason behind it, but I am not well-schooled enough to know what that is.
Actually, I completely understand the desire to produce a physical print. There's an intangible quality in a high end photographic print that just seems to be unmatched by any computer monitor. I can stand in front of a 16x20 or 20x30 print on display in a museum and just stare in awe. The prints almost have a 3-D quality about them. I can form an emotional attachment to a print, but I can't seem to form the same attachment to an image on a screen.
Plus, there are some real practical reasons for producing physical prints:
First, a photographic print that you've produced presents the image to a viewing audience in the exact form that you intend for it to be viewed. The same is not true of an image posted to your website. Remember, you've gone through your color-managed workflow to produce an image that looks absolutely stunning on your high-end, fully-calibrated Eizo monitor. It looks exactly as you intend for it to be viewed. Unfortunately, the majority of folks who visit your website will likely not be looking at your image through a high-end Eizo. In fact, you have absolutely no control over how the image will be viewed.
A person could be viewing the image through a low end monitor with the default color temperature set to 9600K (believe me, I've seen it, and the person had no idea of the difference until I pointed it out and re-adjusted the monitor for him) and think that the colors in your image just aren't very good, or that the image is too contrasty, or too flat,...,etc. It's kind of like giving someone your high-end dSLR/prime combo for evaluation, and the first thing the person does is put a $30 Quantaray filter on the lens. And before anyone mentions it, I know that there is still some variability with regard to the viewing of physical prints. For instance, the color temperature of the light being used to view the print, or the possibility that the viewer has some form of color blindness. But I still believe that it's nowhere near the great variability that we see in computer monitors these days.
Second, when you produce a physical print, you've actually put your image in a form that I believe is much more archival than digital storage. It sounds counter-intuitive, but think about all the worries (at least they're worries that I have) that go along with digital storage. Is my image going to be in a file format that's readable 25 years from now? Is my storage medium going to have an interface that's compatible with computers 25 years from now. What is the actual lifespan of the medium that I'm using to store my digital images? It's been shown that CDs and DVDs can begin degrading in as little as 3 to 4 years. That's with them just sitting in storage. Hard drives are better, but they can still be killed with an electrical surge, and then there's still the issue of interface compatibility 25 years from now. Think about the pain that you'd have to go through to try and read an MFM or RLL ST-506 interface drive today. And yes, I've dated myself with that statement. I used to think that I was so cool with my 5 MB hard drive in my PC.
In contrast, good quality ink jet prints may have an archival rating from 125 to 150 years, especially if they're kept in dark storage. Think about it. Once you produce your prints, put them in sheet protectors and file them away, other than a physical disaster, like a fire, it's likely that you'll never really worry about them again. Those prints can be handed down to your kids, and they can hand them down to their kids. No one in the generational chain will have to worry about file incompatibilities, or having to be responsible for converting tens of thousands of Grandpa Bill's images from an old, out-dated format, to the latest digital "standard".
What makes something valuable is it's scarcity. What makes it sentimental is the emotional attachment one puts upon the object, regardless of it's value. That "worthless" Time magazine could be valuable to someone if that person in the photo is their daughter.
I like the digital age of photos because it means I don't have to have sentimentality of a photo if I don't want to. It's not a print so it can go away fast enough. I don't have to hang on to those pictures of my friend's kids for years. I look at it on the website, tell them it's cute- done. But for myself, I am a little sad about the digital age. I used to take lots of photos and put them in a photo album. I did this up to about 3 years ago. Now, I have taken photos in the past 3 years but they are in my phone or on a disc. I am too cheap to print them out. It's a pain. Then I have to have sentimentality about them. Now I don't have to care. Or I can if I felt like it. But they are of no value to anyone but me.
But value? It's all about scarity. Your 365 portraits are valuable because they are rare. Prints are even more rare. Even if they're in a book- it's still not the real thing. The book might become valuable if it's out of print. Or limited edition. But if no one cares about it- as in there is no sentimentality about the scare item-then there's no value.
Hi Bill,
A parallel from the world of music?
In the early days of Napster, a friend and I would spend many a late night at "French Roast" on the Upper West Side discussing the fate of physical product. He thought that, after the initial honeymoon with downloads, people would still relish the physical product, and start buying CDs again. Fans want "something to hold" for their money, as well as something they could sell-off later as a used copy, or trade to a friend.
Several years have passed, and thus far he's been proven wrong, by people like me. I've moved 3 times in the last two years, and my whole 800+ CD collection is mostly in boxes. I have a humongous pile of CDs given to me by bands/labels that I've yet to open.
Of course, I'm always interested in hearing new things -- but more often than not, I'll buy tracks on iTunes and Amazon, knowing that they won't clutter up our closets/storage space, just my hard drive and iPod. I'll listen to things on MySpace and Last.fm
For me, the final product is the moment when one person shares my work with another. Whether they've bought a friend concert tickets, a CD or a download, or are (illegally) sending an mp3 of mine to a friend, well, that's the final product doing its good work, infecting people, communicating something of mine, hitting a nerve, and so on.
In visual art, I suppose it could be different -- though there's nothing too positive about scarcity, certainly not from the point of view of people who live outside places where scarcity is held (like New York). I was perfectly infatuated with Picasso when I saw scans of his works online; I was madly in love when I finally saw them in person at the MoMA -- but had I not been given the opportunity to see the paintings in the flesh, I would still be a devoted fan.
I guess the key is for the "product" to transcend its "delivery method" -- something your works do exceptionally well.
Be well, and congrats on "Time"!
-Ljova
(privileged to have been "shot" by you last year)