What makes a photo “deep”?

[Heroique]

Just curious – if you think an LF image has intellectual or emotional “depth,” what made you think so? (I’ll trust that the general meaning of this term is useful enough for conversation here, since we’re not overly-precise, jargon-bedeviled art critics.) :)

Either well-known “masterpieces,” or prints by you or others.

Does your awareness of depth happen immediately, the moment you see an image for the first time – or does it happen only after an interior (critical) struggle, maybe hours, days or years later? Can you simply describe, as an educated layperson, what this depth is, and when it’s necessary?

Is it mainly a response to literal, describable things – light, line, color, tone, mass, spacing, texture, etc. – or something more mysterious, instinctual, and resistant to language?

-----
On a related note, just how objective is anyone’s sense of photographic depth?

[Kirk Gittings]

Good question. To me we are talking about images that connect with people on multiple levels, print quality, composition, emotional response, intellectually etc. A print that is "deep" draws you back and reveals more with each visit.

[BrianShaw]

I don't have the vocabulary to properly describe it but for me "deep" images are those which I look at for a prolonged period of time (immediate reaction), remember, and go back to look at repeatedly (protracted reactions).... for whatever reason.

[Heroique]

I was admiring LF photos of Anasazi ruins by David Muench (4x5 Linhof Teknika + Ektachrome film) and what makes them deep, I think, is how pleasing it is for the eye to travel – and to keep traveling – through the composition, returning to the same area multiple times.

More difficult to explain than to experience:

For example, each particular subject in a photo (a crumbling wall, say, or a juniper tree) eventually leads the eye to all other subjects in the same photo w/o dead ends. You see each subject on its own – then, after looking away from it – you’re eventually led back to it once more, this time w/ a richer understanding of its surroundings. An endless journey of increasing relationships...

I suspect he captures this integration (or “conversation”) more by feeling than by conscious design, but it’s also an old “trick of the trade” in Western painting.

[Drew Wiley]

Apparently you're referring to visual depth, not something more mystical. Muench was a
conscious addict of "near/far" by using very wide angle lenses and an arrangement of some
foreground object in relation to a distant one. Other things like converging lines can be used, blah, blah. Advancing warm vs receding cool hues. In black and white, an impression
of intervening atmosphere (one reason to love the old blue sensitive films). My favorite game at one time was to confuse people over depth, disorient them.

[Rafal Lukawiecki]

A picture does not often seem "deep" to me straight away. For example, I came to like many Ansel Adams's images years since I saw them first. I must admit, though, that seeing the actual prints helped a lot. Sometimes, an image draws me instantly, appears deep, but later it seems it was just an illusion of depth—I can just think of a few frozen-motion photos of coloured water droplets looking like glass, which had wowed me at first, but a few days later seemed superficial.

I think an image is "deep" if it stays, indelibly, in my mind over a long period of time. I have only seen The Afghan Girl maybe once or twice, and I did not like it at the time, but it is there, all the time, making me think of it, and I came to like it—though not necessarily the oversized prints of it that I saw exhibited, which were poorly executed, taking away from the beauty of that image.

I agree with Heroique that an interesting composition, and a structure that leads the eye, and makes you want to discover the detail, bit by bit, helps to deepen it, similar to a painting, or other graphic arts. But that is not a sufficient quality alone.

[Heroique]

...visual depth, not something more mystical.

I too like the visual (3-D) depth of his Anasazi images ... but I was mainly referring to how his images lead the eye from land to architecture – and from architecture to land – generating the perception of an integrated whole, like a single organism.

An ongoing mystical depth, even though the civilization is long gone.

Like other “deep” photos, these by Muench certainly encourage repeated viewings w/o exhausting themselves – or as Rafal says, they have a way of staying in your mind. They stick with you & grow with you.

[Jody_S]

I'm not entirely sure what you mean, I think obviously not simple depth-of-field. The photographs that 'grab' me, that create an almost-instant emotional response, tend to be the ones that either challenge or re-affirm my worldview. In either instance, I tend to forget that I'm looking at a 'photograph'.

[photobymike]

Maybe a better term would be "thought provoking"..... Gestalt studied the mind shapes relationship ... but there is also a "cognitive depth" relationship to the subject matter. Ya see i took art classes in college.....

i just take pictures that make me feel good..... :-)

[ScottPhotoCo]

There are many definitions of "deep" to me. First is on the emotional side. I love an image that grabs me and makes me wish I'd made that photo. It makes me think and creates a lasting impression in my mind. As I LOVE portraits, this image by Paolo Roversi is a great example and one of my favourites:

85322

Beyond this, there is the technical side of "deep". To me these have a range of tonality that make them seem life-like and dimensional. Generally, in my experience, these are most often found in prints using traditional methods by wizards such as Ansel Adams or Clyde Butcher. Amazing stuff. Now obviously their work is much more than darkroom wizardry, but you get what I mean.

Someday I hope to have the proficiency to combine both.

[Drew Wiley]

OK - but Muench for me is about the most impoverished LF photog I can think of in terms
of mystical depth. I've always thought of him as an extremely predictable calendar type.
Some cute motif in the foreground for stock appeal, with some distant object to create the
sense of depth, and oblivious to the boundaries of the shot, though he tried to improve that using imitating certain rote art schooly conventions. A wonderful popular illustrator
for Arizona Hwys etc, no doubt, but light years below Cezanne.

[Mark Sawyer]

Just curious – if you think an LF image has intellectual or emotional “depth,” what made you think so?

Pixies! :)


On a related note, just how objective is anyone’s sense of photographic depth?

By my example, not very...

[Kirk Gittings]

OK - but Muench for me is about the most impoverished LF photog I can think of in terms
of mystical depth. I've always thought of him as an extremely predictable calendar type.
Some cute motif in the foreground for stock appeal, with some distant object to create the
sense of depth, and oblivious to the boundaries of the shot, though he tried to improve that using imitating certain rote art schooly conventions. A wonderful popular illustrator
for Arizona Hwys etc, no doubt, but light years below Cezanne.

Wow to some degree I agree with you here Drew. We have disagreed enormously over Muench in the past. As much as I like his work I see it as very well done in its genre but more slick and commercial than "deep".

[Peter Lewin]

I'm not sure what the correct answer is, but a couple of the earlier posts bothered me. I don't think that being indelible is synonymous with being deep. If I mention Robert Capa's "Death in Spain" or Eddie Adam's Pulitzer-winning photo of the "Execution in Vietnam," most of you will instantly visualize the images (even if my titles aren't exactly right). We are fascinated by the photos because they deal with the most universal subject, death (we won't go into the question of whether Capa's image was staged, a debate amongst the experts), and we are attracted to them in the same way that most people are "attracted" to car wrecks. But I don't think I would call either of those photos "deep." It is simply that the subject matter is universal.

Similarly, every one of us can instantly visualize Ansel Adams's "Moonrise," Edward Weston's "Pepper No. x" (can't remember the correct number, but its irrelevant), and I'm not sure either of those is deep either.

I think "deep" is an intellectual property, as when we say someone is a "deep thinker." I find that much easier to identify in literature, I don't know if I've ever found it in a photograph. For that matter, I don't know if I've ever seen it in a painting or sculpture either. There are many qualities that we enjoy in the visual arts, such as form, color, flow, and in some art, motivation (visual puns were enjoyed by the surrealists), but, at least for me, not "deep."

[Mike Anderson]

Good question. When I think of a deep photo I think of Wynn Bullocks "Navigation Without Numbers".
http://www.afterimagegallery.com/bullocknavigation.htm

So what's deep about it? It's presents a story that's powerful but not fully formed. There's something important happening but I don't know quite what it is. And there's something witty about the title book off to the side, like a dry narrator oblivious to the subject of the narration. Totally deep.

[David R Munson]

"Deep" is something extremely difficult to nail down as a concept as applied to photography. One might as well ask what makes a photo good. Taste differs, disagreements are inevitable.

Now then, for *me* and I really only mean this in terms of what appeals to me, photographs I would regard as deep are those that tend to move me viscerally, those that draw me in and hold me there, having something more than I can put a name to or explain. A work of art of any kind that I would regard as deep is typically one that resonates with something from my personal experience or interpretation of life. For me, depth has a lot to do with the bigger questions in life and what it is to be human.

Some examples relevant to what I value in photography:

Bill Henson's work picks up on fragile nuances of adolescence, moments of beauty frozen midair in the context of the turbulence of all the changes we go through at that stage of life, the painful interstitiality of it all. To me, that's deep.
Nobuyoshi Araki balances so perfectly eros and thanatos, finding amazing moments of connection and revealing the underlying structures of conscious experience, delving deeply into the grasping-at-straws nature of sex and image and affection on the long slow slide to death.
Gregory Crewdson isolates and suspends impossible moments, like a conceptually-transcendent film still that sums up everything all at once. His photos look like how I dream at night.
Michael Levin's work has taught me things about time, about the potential for our normal way of looking at things to mislead us in how we assume the world around us is structured.
Shomei Tomatsu has a sense for the spaces in between things, for approaching a subject indirectly, using means of inference to draw around the subject rather than pointing to it directly. That which surrounds what we see is often at least as important as the thing itself, and that's the extra dimension I get from his work.


What makes a photo deep? Depth. Something more than the immediate and obvious. Something that grabs hold of some part of you and shakes it until you stop dead and really, really look, not at it, but into it. And to me that applies to all sorts of creative media, we just happen to be talking about photography here. It could just as easily be applied to sculpture or music, for example. Lee Bontecou's work is deep for me. Bronze sculptures of kids playing in the park, not so much. Gorecki's third symphony and "Lateralus" by Tool are deep to me. Bieber is not.

[rdenney]

I'm not sure that being indelible is the same as being compelling. There are many images that strike awe or some other emotion in me even when they are familiar, but it's not the familiarity that causes that effect. One would think that familiarity would dilute it. That's not the same thing as being memorable. Warhol was opposed to the concept of depth in its entirety, but his soup cans are familiar, memorable, indelible, whatever. They are not that because their subject matter is universal, but rather because the subject matter is iconic.

But when I look at his soup cans, I go, "Okay, soup cans." His point is taken; let's move on.

In odd contrast, I can stare at a Pollack, and come back to it over and over again. I don't love it at all, and in fact at some level it offends me. I'd be hard-pressed to buy the notion that it has any meaning at all, let alone on multiple levels. But it is...compelling. It does not engender shallow or superficial thoughts the way Warhol's soup cans do. Much of the attention it commands is, "why does this work at all?" I never have an answer to that, but there is so little to the technique that the answer to that question has to be about me, and not about it. The sheer unconcern of it to my questions seems to me an aspect of its depth--it somehow forces me to bring my own. It just is, but I can't ignore it.

Moonrise is certainly Adams's most indelible image, and in many ways his most popular. And it commands the highest price. But of his other iconic works, his Monolith, the Face of Half Dome is the one I look at daily in my house (alas, on a NYGS poster). That photo never fails to do something to me. I don't really know what, and I don't know why.

C.S. Lewis called it joy. It had nothing to do with pleasure or happiness by his meaning, but rather some awakening at the spiritual level. He used that word to describe his response to the ancient literature that guided his professional life--the Old Norse, Anglo-Saxon, and Old/Middle English fantasies, epics, and especially epic poetry. He first experienced it as a boy, reading the real literature in his father's library, as he explains in his book, Surprised by Joy. (Despite what made him famous, this concept was artistic, not religious, in his thinking.) Lewis also defined "art" (in his An Experiment in Criticism, also not religious) as that which pulls the artistic response from the receiver of that art. His definition of what separates the superficial from the deep was something that allowed repeated experience with no lessening of its emotional power on the reader. His example of superficial was the phrase, "bathed in a flood of silver moonlight" which he suggested would be accepted at face value by the unliterary and not reward deeper and further reflection because it left nothing further to find. His counter-example was Malory's "the Moon shone clear" (from L'Mort de Arthur), the simplicity of which commands involvement from the reader, over and over again (and which hits my thrill button). There is no formula, there is only what works.

Much music moves me deeply. What makes Vaughan Williams's Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis as moving to me on the thousandth hearing as on the tenth? (I had trouble maintaining my composure when I heard the Philharmonia Orchestrra play it in London a few years ago--my first hearing of that work performed in person by a world-class orchestra, and a British one at that.) And what made the tenth far more powerful than the first? I have no idea. It is certainly not it's tonal color and melody, though they make it possible. Those are just the tools of expression, and what he expressed came from a deeper well. That part defies analysis, I think, and certainly by me. But Vaughan Williams himself describes his first experience of hearing Wagner, where he stayed up all night afterwards, but was unable to talk to anyone.

But while I sometimes perceive it, I have no idea whatsoever how to define or produce it.

Rick "quite sure that the response is not universal" Denney

[Lenny Eiger]

Depth is very important to me. It is the quality which interests me the most. There is a point where an image transcends what things look like and begins to communicate something more. It is often when someone "understands" something about what they are looking at. If this understanding is something I understand as well, there is a recognition that occurs. Even further, I may recognize that every human being also understands this, that its universal, and that makes me experience my own humanity, and my connection with the rest of life. I learn something.

I once went to a show of Lewis Hine's images, a retrospective with about 240 photographs. In every image, he did his best to draw out something about the person in front of him. He let them shine, the image was about them, and not particularly about him. The display of selflessness was overwhelming, perhaps made more so by the sheer number of images. I remember being very sorry that I did not have the opportunity to meet such a person. Arnold Newman's heavily graphic images seem to be about him, and while they might be impressive in some ways, they leave me cold by comparison. I love Robert Frank's work as well but it doesn't "do it" to me. Hine was special.

In the corner there was another room, with images from Hine's influences. I saw a photo called "Morning" by Clarence White. I was stunned. My jaw dropped and I think I stopped breathing for a while. Something about the image brought me right inside it. It was taken in 1910, printed in gravure, there was more atmosphere in an image than I had seen at the time. It moved my insides around. I felt like I was a changed person after seeing the image. I gained a new respect for what photography can do.

In my view, the "expression" in photography comes down to an expression of the relationship you have with what you are photographing. That's what we see in others' images, how one looks at the world. People come to their subjects with all sorts of emotions, from disdain to sweet love to awe, and everything in between. The feeling one starts out with is what shows in the image. Its what the rest see.

This is what the internal work is all about. The deeper one can connect with someone or something, the deeper the expression will be. That takes some work, mostly getting out of one's own way.

For this reason when I go out and photograph I get down on my knees and stick my hands in the dirt. I try and remember that I am part of this Earth, that I ought to have some gratitude, for a lot of things. I try and do my best to fully see what's in front of me, and try and understand something.

Lenny

[Heroique]

...C.S. Lewis’s counter-example was Malory's "the Moon shone clear" (from [I]L'Mort de Arthur), the simplicity of which commands involvement from the reader, over and over again (and which hits my thrill button).

Interesting – Malory’s simple phrase has three heavy accents, slowing the pace.

I’ve often noticed my pace of viewing a “deep” photograph can slow down.

This reminds me, however, of Stephen Crane’s famous sentence, “The moon had been lighted and was hung in a treetop,” which communicates the clarity Malory wants to get across. Though also simple, it’s not slow at all – it gallops – yet it’s still deep and moving. (Crane’s use of a metaphor makes for another significant difference...)

Likewise, I think a “deep” photo can work on the viewer either slowly or quickly, depending on its arrangement.

[neil poulsen]

For me, photographs that approach deep are those about social commentary. Deep goes hand in hand with images that are thought-provoking.

The Steerage (Stieglitz) is an example. Or, some of Hines work that show child labor.

I have a friend who captured an image standing behind a row of police sitting on motorcycles who were watching a demonstration. That came across to me as deep, because I had this strong sense of three, not just two layers: the demonstration, the police, and the watchful photographer. It was really a neat photograph.

I'm not sure that "deep" is really photography's strongest suit. Inspiring, thought-provoking, humorous, revealing, beautiful, colorful, or informational, yes. But, not necessarily deep.

[C. D. Keth]

To me, it's a photograph that thrills me or interests me on more than just a visual level and holds my interest over time and through multiple viewings.

[Darin Boville]

In odd contrast, I can stare at a Pollack, and come back to it over and over again. I don't love it at all, and in fact at some level it offends me. I'd be hard-pressed to buy the notion that it has any meaning at all, let alone on multiple levels. But it is...compelling. It does not engender shallow or superficial thoughts the way Warhol's soup cans do. Much of the attention it commands is, "why does this work at all?" I never have an answer to that, but there is so little to the technique that the answer to that question has to be about me, and not about it. The sheer unconcern of it to my questions seems to me an aspect of its depth--it somehow forces me to bring my own. It just is, but I can't ignore it.

This is exactly my experience. Two footnotes, at least for me, none of this is true for reproductions. They do nothing at all for me. But the paintings themselves (well, at least some of them) are a real experience to look at. Also, I've seen one or two fake Pollacks and--maybe not surprisingly--some of that "magic" or whatever you want to call it is there as well.

--Darin

[rdenney]

This is exactly my experience. Two footnotes, at least for me, none of this is true for reproductions. They do nothing at all for me. But the paintings themselves (well, at least some of them) are a real experience to look at. Also, I've seen one or two fake Pollacks and--maybe not surprisingly--some of that "magic" or whatever you want to call it is there as well.

Pollock's methods were often mechanical and therefore reproducible. But for one to create a replica of his work, they would have to know how he did it. Thus, it would still be his idea even if someone else's machine dripped the paint. And I think it's the idea that makes it interesting.

And my poster of Monolith is powerful. I've seen a real one on several occasions in museum showings (in fact that's where I bought the poster). Yes, the prints have a technical quality that makes them better. But in the case of that photo, at least, it's not the technical quality that drives that image for me.

I've told this story before: I have a Special Edition print of Dogwoods, and I have compared it side-by-side to the reproduction in Yosemite and the Range of Light. The optical print is a bit less "sharp", which for me means that the transitions from light to dark are smoother, even on the micro scale. The dot pattern on the reproduction provides false edges that make it look sharper. As soon as the photo is behind glass, it loses much its tonality advantage over the unframed reproduction, though. I do not find that the optical print is particularly more compelling than the reproduction in that case.

From this I draw the conclusion that, for me at least, technical virtuosity is not the primary source of "depth", as I've described its effects on me. But, as with music, lack of virtuosity can certainly undermine it.

Rick "thinking expression and technique are distinct but sometimes mutually dependent" Denney

[CP Goerz]

I wonder too if there is a certain amount of 'emperor-has-no-clothes' factor going on with some artists/images. If its a Weston/Adams/Caponigro et al that we are 'supposed' to 'look' deeper at/into the image, maybe a picture of a pretty shell/tree/mountain is just that.

[paulr]

Photo of the Mariana Trench.

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MUkp64s1O4s/T23LdIUf3WI/AAAAAAAAAQM/YD-6rgZsd2g/s1600/james-cameron-submarine-mariana-trench-light-wall_48969_600x450.jpg

Hard to get deeper than that.

[CP Goerz]

Or conversely.......:-)

[Drew Wiley]

I'm pretty skeptical that anyone could duplicate the true gestalt of Pollock, regardless of
how good there were at mimicking outward technique, anymore than the thousands who
have tried to mimic Van Gogh. Genius has a certain undefinable spark. I also get tired of all
the backseat quarterbacks who think that just because one has perfected the Zone System they automatically acquire the musical skills of AA. Uncle Earl had talent and the same subject matter but not the same poetic sensibility. I could spot the difference instantly. One time I was walking thru a major Carleton Watkins exhibit quiety explaining
things to a photog friend who didn't get it. Several of the museum staff ended up following
me too, because all they understood was the historical import of his work, not the visual
complexity at all. Some things you either get or you don't. I couldn't ever get Rembrandt
in coffee table book reproductions. Once I stood in front of his actual self-portrait in the
Natl Gallery I got it instantly. Sometimes you need to see the real deal to access the nuances which make things work. Pity this generation which only knows web images.

[JBelthoff]

I can't tell you what it is, but I know it when I see it!

[Lenny Eiger]

I also get tired of all
the backseat quarterbacks who think that just because one has perfected the Zone System they automatically acquire the musical skills of AA. Uncle Earl had talent and the same subject matter but not the same poetic sensibility. I could spot the difference instantly. One time I was walking thru a major Carleton Watkins exhibit quiety explaining
things to a photog friend who didn't get it. Several of the museum staff ended up following
me too, because all they understood was the historical import of his work, not the visual
complexity at all. Some things you either get or you don't.

Totally with you on this one, Drew. You can't go wrong with Watkins, or Muybridge in Yosemite....


Pity this generation which only knows web images.

Absolutely. I think there is a moment where a photograph becomes an "object" all its own. If you go somewhere you think is magical, get in the space of that magic, tune in and "understand" then the possibility exists that the print that you make can be its own little bit of magic as well.

I also rail at the purely technical. Perfecting the zone system is just a beginning. I think its important to question why you photograph, hell, why you're here in the first place. I saw someone the other day reproduce a Weston photo and present it as an homage. All they did was turn the nautilus on its side. Why bother, its clearly a copy? I have heard so many talk about "getting the shot" like they were building a catalogue. Oh, I have my picture of that one spot in Escalante Canyon, or McClure's Beach... What does that do for anyone?

I have a portrait I took many years ago. It was dusk, and I shot a 90 second exposure with this woman. We were friends, she was my best friends girlfriend. He met her first, and I wasn't about to cross that line so what we ended up with a line but a lot of sweetness between us.. sort of the knowledge that if things were different... The image is good and sharp, the only part of it that isn't is her collar, which moved up and down just a little with her breathing. It creates a glistening highlight. This succeeded because of the long exposure. We breathed together and over some minutes slowed things down. We were connected and it shows. The image speaks of intimacy. I was thrilled to be able to communicate using a larger concept. I think we should be after those - intimacy, integrity, selflessness, humility, to name a few.

We have so many good examples of photos that can speak to the indomitable human spirit. Dorothea Lange, and almost everyone in the FSA. I think its about looking deeper. Caring enough to take a portrait where what we want is the inside, not just the outward appearance. This is the difference in real photography that makes Instagram irrelevant. Amusing at times, it doesn't have any illusions of depth. It won't do anything for anyone. Nothing that is based on a gimmick will have lasting value.

We live in a world that appears to be getting more selfish by the moment. I think we desperately need artists who can show a little depth, point the way to a whole series of emotions. I like to be intellectually stimulated as much as the next guy, but there is real possibility here to move the human spirit, and perhaps, if I may be so bold, a responsibility to do so.

Lenny

[Drew Wiley]

I find Dorothea Lange's images amazing, to some extent that I am simply incapable of ever
getting into someone's face with a camera, while even her own family dreaded her constant stalking. Not a happy life. And it's amazing how her husband's painting style changed when they were seriously fighting. But her images per se - formula stipulated per
contract by Stryker, but still with enough latitude to instill her remarkable personal style.
Fortunately the collection is well care for in the Oakland Museum. My aunt's work was just
the opposite - I find her WPA murals stiff and predictable, in the usual socialist realism
style dictated by those times, but way more fluid when it came to watercolor and personal
work. She eventually became a nun, but one who appreciated the rhythm of Hendrix!

[DrTang]

Not sure I would ever use that term with regard to photographs...or paintings for that matter.

I think concepts/ideas can be deep though.

[Kirk Gittings]

That statement is beyond my comprehension. I'm not trying to be a snot, but IMO if you have never found a painting or photograph to be deep (see my definition way above-not sure what yours is) then I suggest you haven't ever really looked at or really felt art.

[Struan Gray]

Hey Paul! It's not truly deep if it doesn't have a dumbo octopus.

obbook (http://www.tristramshandyweb.it/sezioni/e-text/hogarth/analysis_html/title-page.htm)

[Peter Lewin]

Kirk, since I'm in DrTang's group regarding "deep" in the visual arts, perhaps it is a matter of degree. As a question, have you seen a visual piece (photograph, painting, sculpture) that seemed as deep to you as a piece of literature? The depth of idea that can be conveyed in 100+ pages is simply greater than what any single image can contain. Also, since in your first definition I believe you included emotional response, has any image ever caused the hairs on your neck to rise the way they might during a piece of music? I certainly love the visual arts, and do "really look" at those which evoke a response, but I still don't respond in the same way as I do to Siegfried's Death March in Wagner, for example. But again, Wagner in particular (the Ring cycle is what, 15 hours of music?) or even a typical symphony, simply have so much more time to work their magic and their "depth." Perhaps at the end of the day we are using the word "deep" somewhat differently, I still come back to my own feeling that no visual piece can have the same intellectual depth as literature, and in a somewhat broader sense, perhaps music.

Edit: I'm typing as I listen to Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D, which for me kind of reinforces my point.

[David R Munson]

To put a photograph up against 100+ pages of a book is absurd - it's one image against many.

[Lenny Eiger]

Kirk, since I'm in DrTang's group regarding "deep" in the visual arts, perhaps it is a matter of degree. As a question, have you seen a visual piece (photograph, painting, sculpture) that seemed as deep to you as a piece of literature? The depth of idea that can be conveyed in 100+ pages is simply greater than what any single image can contain. Also, since in your first definition I believe you included emotional response, has any image ever caused the hairs on your neck to rise the way they might during a piece of music? I certainly love the visual arts, and do "really look" at those which evoke a response, but I still don't respond in the same way as I do to Siegfried's Death March in Wagner, for example. But again, Wagner in particular (the Ring cycle is what, 15 hours of music?) or even a typical symphony, simply have so much more time to work their magic and their "depth." Perhaps at the end of the day we are using the word "deep" somewhat differently, I still come back to my own feeling that no visual piece can have the same intellectual depth as literature, and in a somewhat broader sense, perhaps music.

Edit: I'm typing as I listen to Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D, which for me kind of reinforces my point.

I can say for myself that I have. It isn't often. I have had a photograph move me as much as a Beethoven violin concerto. Easily so. Certainly a body of work, 100 images against 100 pages of a book. No contest.

Lenny

[Peter Lewin]

To put a photograph up against 100+ pages of a book is absurd - it's one image against many.
But that is exactly my point! I suggest we are using terms that belong to one form of expression, and applying them to another form where the fit simply isn't as good. Yes, one image may have more intellect behind it than another, so it is "deeper" which is not the same as being deep.

We normally say that someone is a "deep thinker" but that is normally used when discussing literature.

We can easily talk about visceral responses when listening to a piece of music, or the enjoyment of listening to the same music many times, and responding every single time. (I just had to pause typing because I was listening to the finale of the "1812 Overture" and was getting goosebumps and "singing along.")

The visual arts are moving, wonderful, surprising, even emotional, but the adjective "deep" is, IMHO, a force fit.

Quick edit, seeing Lenny's post above, If you bring in a body of work, I may agree with you, because an entire body of work has sufficient depth for the concept of "deep" to be applicable. The original question was what makes a (single) photograph deep.

[David R Munson]

It seems you are haunted by semiotic ghosts. I am not at all bothered by the application of the concept of depth to photography.

[Heroique]

I think David and Peter are making good & provocative points.

Me, I think it would be unfair to put even one page of great literature up against one great photograph in a contest of depth. If it were a boxing match, the photo, even a very deep one, would go down for the count in the 1st round. ;^)

To give the photo a fighting chance, one might transfer the written page to the live stage, forcing it to be visual too.

Take, for example, any significant moment from King Lear:

If you’re a director – a good one – you might imagine countless ways to portray that moment on the stage (all the way down to the voice’s inflection of a single syllable), but you get to put only one of those countless ways into action.

To make an inexact but helpful comparison, the photographer’s print is “limited” like the director’s play. That is, neither the print nor the play has a fighting chance against the written work’s depth, which is the good reader’s privilege to experience, in a sort of glorious (musical) counterpoint.

[Rafal Lukawiecki]

Hmm, it seems to me some of you guys are either being a bit self-deprecating, or perhaps just humble. I can easily think of images, paintings especially, of which more than a hundred books were written. I think discussing semantics of depth across media is fine, but the comparison is unquantifiable, and counting pages, or books, does not help. For example, how many thoughts does a story evoke, how many feelings does an image draw...

[Mike Anderson]

Things that play out over time (music, literature, movies, video games) can push buttons and pull levers that a still image can't. And a roller coaster ride can do things that music and literature can't.

But any of the above can have varying levels of depth and shallowness. Of course this all hinges on how you define "depth".

[Jim Jones]

What makes a photo deep is not as much any intrinsic quality of the photo as it is the response it evokes in the viewer. That response is conditioned by the experiences of the viewer's lifetime, far more complex than any single image. Even though I was just a kid during WWII, the Joe Rosenthal photo of the Iwo Jima flagraising portrays struggle and victory better than any other photo from the war. To this retired career Navy man, a single photo of the USS Nevada, on fire but under way during the Pearl Harbor attack, tells more of America's indomitable spirit than any words of the time. Karsh's iconic photo of Churchill must have meant the same to the British Empire in that war. I don't recall that seeing a large print of it in a Karsh exhibit moving me as much as seeing book reproductions years earlier. It was the message more than the medium that counted.

On the other hand, my Cole Weston print of Shell, 1927, shares the unexplicable ability to move me like a Haydn string quartet or some of Bach's unaccompanied violin or cello music does. Perhaps we should not try too hard to unravel the mystery of such magic.

[johnmsanderson]

I have rarely found single photographs that I could call deep, in the sense they convey some deep truth about people or the spaces we inhabit. What I have found to be truly deep, perhaps more so than any other medium, are some photographer's dedication to certain subjects, places, and their respective stylistic approaches. Their resulting bodies of work are very much deep, imbued with the authenticity and truth that only hundreds of hours of photographic dedication validate. Good or bad, photographs are still a record of one's deep feeling for something.

[paulr]

I have rarely found single photographs that I could call deep, in the sense they convey some deep truth about people or the spaces we inhabit.

Right. In this sense photography is the most superficial of media, because it is made by traces of light bouncing off the surfaces of things. The interesting conversation, I think, is about what this implies. If we have a sense of depth (which we often do) where does it come from? All these possible sources of meaning ... metaphor, narrative, personality ... if they are not intrinsic to the image, which can never really show anything but the optical appearance of surfaces, then where do they reside?

Philosophers and theorists and literary types have been dealing with these questions for over half a century now. I sense that we photographers often operate from a bunch of assumptions that we rarely bother questioning.

[Kirk Gittings]

On the other hand, my Cole Weston print of Shell, 1927, shares the unexplicable ability to move me like a Haydn string quartet or some of Bach's unaccompanied violin or cello music does. Perhaps we should not try too hard to unravel the mystery of such magic.

I agree with this sentiment. There are images that I can revisit again and again over decades that with each viewing reveals ever richer content and emotional connection. I am genuinely astonished that this is not a universal experience. It is that very quality of photography that moves me to create personal "art" images. I'm not sure I would bother without having experienced that in others images.

[DrTang]

I can say for myself that I have. It isn't often. I have had a photograph move me as much as a Beethoven violin concerto. Easily so. Certainly a body of work, 100 images against 100 pages of a book. No contest.

Lenny


'moved' =\= deep

you can be moved by a sunset..or even a commercial... but I wouldn't call them deep

[Drew Wiley]

I don't know if "deep" is the best word. But visual art can be just as nuanced, layered,
evocative, whatever, as audible music or any other esthetic form. Doesn't mean everyone
else is tuned in to it. If I can stand looking at one of my own prints on a wall for more than
a few months I figure it must have something going for it. I got cussed out at a big public
opening one time when some guy got totally confused by the spatial complexities in a particular big Cibachrome. I found his reaction fascinating, not offensive at all. But that very print was the one the curator wanted front and center. Took me about twenty years to get tired of that particular image, but I eventually did, but more because of the hues
instead of the composition, which I still enjoy. How much of this transpires consciously
when we take such shots is really a voodoo subject; but in the darkroom it starts becoming more cognitive for me.

[Heroique]

‘moved’ =\= deep. You can be moved by a sunset ... or even a commercial ... but I wouldn’t call them deep.

Doctor, I think I understand your thoughtful diagnosis: All deep photos are moving, but not all photos that move you are deep. Is that fair? ;^)

-----
However, if you’re not a deep person, and a deep photo doesn’t move you, is it still deep?

Just asking, because the helpful people around here whose opinions I value highly seem to be avoiding my final question in post #1: “Just how objective is anyone’s sense of photographic depth?”

[Lenny Eiger]

'moved' =\= deep

you can be moved by a sunset..or even a commercial... but I wouldn't call them deep

I think this Anais Nin quote says much:

"If you do not breathe through writing,
if you do not cry out in writing, or sing
in writing, then don't write, because our
culture has no use for it."
~Anaîs Nin

I would echo this sentiment in Photography.

I am not moved by commercials, except perhaps to turn the TV off entirely, or to "move" to another channel. My mentor, Phil Perkis, used to say "At the end of the day, what wisdom do you have to share with the rest of us?" If one doesn't have any, then they ought to go look for it and not bother with mediums of expression until they have found some.

If one can not find find a photograph that moves them "deeply" then they should stop photographing and go look for one. It is only then that they will know "where they live" within the many genres of photography. It is only by knowing who you are and what you stand for that you can express anything of value. Anything else is just a technical exercise.

We live in a world today that is filled with superficiality, and everything is a commodity. There are so many things that cheapen life. We must rail against this or we will end up living in some science fiction novel where we are all reduced to numbers. If we can't find meaning in our lives, however differently that may express itself for everyone, then we are lost.

To express one's self deeply, it takes work. Emotional work, that is. If one is not willing to do the work, it shows. To move someone, one must first be moveable themselves. To create a picture of someone more than a snapshot, one has to be able to connect with another person. The deeper one connect's usually the deeper the photo. To photograph a tree that does something to someone else, you have to be able to connect with a tree. Otherwise, its just one more tree shot, and we've all seen what a tree looks like. We don't get transported there.

It's important to me to know that some of my favorite portraits ever taken, those by Walker Evans, were taken after literally weeks of getting to know these people. It's very different from shooting out the window of the bus as one travels thru a foreign country.

Knowledge and understanding, truly being present, sharing something that is universal and useful, that equals deep.

Lenny

[paulr]

'moved' =\= deep

you can be moved by a sunset..or even a commercial... but I wouldn't call them deep

And this language of being "moved" raises another question. Moved from where to where?

[Drew Wiley]

Good music is like a friendly dog. It just comes up, wags its tail, and slobbers all over you.
Good photography is more like a cat - you generally need to approach it on its own terms,
but with patience, you'll understand its own complex personality.

[Kirk Gittings]

:)....

[Heroique]

And this language of being “moved” raises another question. Moved from where to where?

Good question.

If metaphors count, I’d say from Las Vegas to ... Florence.

Or from earth to the stars?

Deep photos – such as AA’s Moon and Half Dome, Yosemite Valley, 1960 – certainly move me in that direction.

[paulr]

Florence to las Vegas would also be an impressive trick. Isn't there a miniature version of Florence on the strip?

I ask these annoying questions about what it means to be moved, etc., because I think these ideas that are most common--and that tend go unquestioned--are often the ones most worth questioning. It's how we figure out if we're basing feelings and beliefs on something innate or on something that we've inherited from some moment in cultural history.

In the world of large format photography, I notice a lot of ideas taken as sacrosanct which didn't even emerge until the Romantic age, and which have been quite thoroughly explored and disassembled by other communities since then.

[Kirk Gittings]

moved>moving your awareness from detached to interested.

[Peter Lewin]

Drat, can't help but continue to be dragged into this philosophical stuff! (Of course, I enjoy it, or I wouldn't participate...). I still think we are conflating "moved" and "deep," exactly as the good Doctor suggests. Let me suggest a picture I think we all know, but don't know the proper title or photographer: it is the naked young Vietnamese girl running towards the camera, bomb smoke behind her. It is an iconic anti-war photograph. And I think anyone who sees it is "moved," it is hard to stay detached (using Kirk's word), I think everyone seeing the photograph has some kind of emotional response. On the other hand, this picture is classic photojournalism. Yes, the photographer was certainly (I hope) empathetic, and in editing his or her contact sheet (I suspect Vietnam was pre-digital) chose this image, so there is certainly a conscious selection process at work. But still, in the sense of this thread, is this a "deep" photograph? And while it probably "moves" you, is this really because it is a "considered" photograph, or rather that it hits a whole bunch of universal issues, such as war, death, parenthood, innocence, and probably a dozen others that I'm typing too quickly to think of? So with this list, I am tempted to say it is deep, but then I come back to how it was made, a split second decision by a war photojournalist during a hectic battle scene, which almost by definition says it is instinctive and lucky rather than planned or thought out. Can a "lucky" photograph be "deep?" Is it possible not to be "moved" by any photograph of inhumanity or tragedy?

[Lenny Eiger]

So with this list, I am tempted to say it is deep, but then I come back to how it was made, a split second decision by a war photojournalist during a hectic battle scene, which almost by definition says it is instinctive and lucky rather than planned or thought out. Can a "lucky" photograph be "deep?" Is it possible not to be "moved" by any photograph of inhumanity or tragedy?

Of course it is. There is a lot to that photograph. First of all, all the experience of the photographer. Luck favors the prepared - greatly in journalism. The willingness to be in a war zone, where any moment your life can be ended. There were probably a large number of possible photographs that would all have been effective in that scenario. He chose one.

The sense of being in war, something that terrifies us all, rightly so, is going to "move" us. Robert Capa's famous image from the war in Spain is another. The war environment make people have a heightened sense of awareness. It makes one be much more aware of their surroundings. They have to see, or they die. It's another flavor of depth.

Lenny

[Struan Gray]

In photojournalism, the deep photos are those that know the difference between empathy and sympathy.

But most of the examples of deep photos I can think of (examples? anything by Siskind, Abe Morell's domestic still lives, Susan Derges' fey splogings in nightime rivers) avoid heightened drama in the image itself. They let the imagination entangle itself, and subtly implant grains of sand in the mind's oyster. They are not the unavoidable deep of the abyssal trench, but rather the deep of what geologists like to call deep time, which is there only if you care to see it.

[Heroique]

Deep photos ... let the imagination entangle itself, and subtly implant grains of sand in the mind’s oyster. They are not the unavoidable deep of the abyssal trench, but rather the deep of what geologists like to call deep time, which is there only if you care to see it.

I think what you’re struggling to say, Struan, is that photographic depth is a job for figurative language.

But “grains of sand in the mind’s oyster”?

Hmm, sounds a little fishy to me, and a bit painful. ;^)

[Struan Gray]

Consider the possibility it's just the Man Flu meds....

[Heroique]

Say, in view of h2oman’s fun thread “What makes a photograph good,” I naturally remembered this related thread from long ago.

I thought it might be worth a bump if it adds some “Depth” to the “Good.”

-----
BTW, where’s paulr?

"Paging paulr … Paging paulr … please report to h2oman’s thread about what makes a photo good.” :D

[LabRat]

Keeping it simple, I think it has to do with "connectivity"... If a viewer can see and find something that connects to something personal (memory, experience, simile etc, this opens the door to them searching their psyche for the feeling... And that triggers other responses...

But there is a difference between that awareness, or something they can't quite put their finger on... ;-)

Steve K

[Tin Can]

Big USA cities are a warzone

I have seen and been seen too much too close to 'action'

I left Chicago 4 years ago after a lifetime? of duck & cover

Where I live now is a lot slower, but nowhere is 'at ease'

I remain at DEFCON 3



Of course it is. There is a lot to that photograph. First of all, all the experience of the photographer. Luck favors the prepared - greatly in journalism. The willingness to be in a war zone, where any moment your life can be ended. There were probably a large number of possible photographs that would all have been effective in that scenario. He chose one.

The sense of being in war, something that terrifies us all, rightly so, is going to "move" us. Robert Capa's famous image from the war in Spain is another. The war environment make people have a heightened sense of awareness. It makes one be much more aware of their surroundings. They have to see, or they die. It's another flavor of depth.

Lenny

[pdmoylan]

Sorry, late to the party here.

The term "deep" suggests to me something metaphysical perhaps, emotional as well in the context of man's plight. There are so many religious and quasi religious factions, now and in history, therefore, without cultural homogeneity as one might find in France in the 1400-1500s say, with the control of the Catholic Church, I doubt there will be a consensus as to whether an image meets the "deep" criteria.

On a individual basis, whatever one brings to an image via beliefs and experiences, will cause a reaction to an image.

But photography does not readily lend itself to allegory or metaphor (though equivalence may be a secular perception of interchangeability of forms), and on another thread I have noted my rejection of the notion that ideas can readily be expressed in photographs except perhaps in a series, diptichs etc. Photography is therefore "safe" as a medium for potential social or religious commentary, unless of course the image is manipulated or placed to enhance a social opinion.

As society shifts away from beliefs of the past, particularly religious, and with the proofs that science provides, I expect that "super reality" will become the cause celebre (example: the Van Gogh Immersion Experience). Here people are not satisfied with viewing a small 2d painting at MOMA, but rather prefer to experience something beyond the norm because the past has become, shall we say, stale. I think the phenomena of false realities goes hand in hand with this, and though overly manipulated photos may not be "pure", they may satisfy those looking for something abnormal but still aesthetically pleasing. Take for instance images taken with Phase One or Hasselblad X1d where shadows are pulled so that there is almost matching exposure between the sky and shadows. Many prefer these images, but my guess is most LFers don't.

[h2oman]

I am no expert, but I believe one doesn't need a fancy medium format digital camera to "pull the shadows" - isn't that what my $65 cell phone's HDR does? And specific HDR software can do it even more drastically, I believe...

[j.e.simmons]

Azo and amidol.

[Drew Wiley]

I've certainly "deep sixed" some of my own prints.

[pdmoylan]

Azo and amidol.

Examples please.

[pdmoylan]

I've certainly "deep sixed" some of my own prints.

I don't believe you :).

[Drew Wiley]

Oh, there are plenty of examples, that is, if you're willing to dig through landfill. But I always rip them apart before they go "deep" into the trash can; don't want any of them ever mistaken for my "keeper" prints.

[j.e.simmons]

Examples please.

You need to see an actual print. A scan doesn’t show it.

[Drew Wiley]

Watch out. I routinely get stoned to death for implying the same thing on a couple of photo forums. Apparently certain people demand some kind of Flickr or Facebook presentation, under the assumption that if it's not pixelated, it's not real. Makes me wonder why I buy darkroom paper to begin with. A deep addiction, I guess. Substitutes just don't do it. Oh well, glad I had the opportunity to look at real prints and aspire to making them myself before computer screens became more common than booklice.

[pdmoylan]

Drew/JE can you describe what is the difference in these prints? Also, some of us are probably looking for an invitation to your next opening, Drew/JE, so we can assimilate the distinctions in prints vs pixels. Can't imaging Drew implying anything remotely blasphemous.

[j.e.simmons]

Some prints on Azo developed in amidol achieved a 3D look. One theory was that amidol developed the image from the bottom of the emulsion while more traditional developers developed from the top. I have no idea whether this theory is fact or foolishness, but I’m fortunate to have actually made a few of these prints.

[Tin Can]

Agree


moved>moving your awareness from detached to interested.

[bob carnie]

Deep Prints - for me this describes the difference between lets say Brett Weston (deep) and Jock Sturges (open) or Sudek (flat) A Adams ( open tonal) - final Prints

I have always put Brett Weston print and even Salgado enlarger prints as something for me to try to work for , I would describe both of these photographers as Deep printmakers. I love the way that
both will allow the blacks to stay dark and slowly build up to a decent highlight that if compared to other work would not be a bright highlight.
I know some of you here have seen thousands of Brett Weston images in person, I have not , maybe 10 hanging pieces. But I did see Salgado's show at George Eastman Museum in the 90's which had over 200 original prints.

On a commercial note as a professional printer I would work with 70's early master printers who would describe a correction as.. Make it deeper, or Open it up, or make a Range.

[Thad Gerheim]

"As my artist's statement explains, my work is utterly incomprehensible and is therefore full of deep significance."

Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Watterson July 15, 1995

[Drew Wiley]

Day before yesterday I printed three different images. One you could call "deep" and glowing in that sense Bob referred to. A full range subject with wonderful opalescent highlights right up to reflective specular highlights, and the other directions down into black upon black upon black. I tweaked it with glycin developer and gold toner, so even though on MGWT it looked more like a classic amidol print
on bromide paper, but even richer.

The next image involved an all-high-key coastal fog scene, very nuanced, but with a few deep black references in the distance, including some fence posts and a black angus bull. I wanted it very atmospheric, just like the feel of the day itself. But just a regular print of that would be bland. So I "deepened" that particular scene using a very different strategy from the one above. It was likewise on MGWT. After gold toning to gain neutral to slightly blue-black deeper values, I very subtly split-toned it in sulfide to get the transitions of the high values better defined via a gentle apricot hue, which accentuated the visibility of the opalescent swirling fog, estuary currents, etc, without needing to enhance contrast per se and spoil the mood.

The third print was a big rock formation scene with a misty farm scene in the background. It was triple toned (gold chloride, sulfide, and selenium, but just a little of each in order to crispy separate tones, but subtly. I didn't want any kind of artsy/craftsy look. The sense of depth was in effect deliberately halfway between the classic "deep print" first described and the deliberately atmospheric high-key shallow plane of field of the second example.