Photographic Composition: Conception and Fine Tuning

Why f/11?I often get asked “How do you get everything sharp?”, which leads to a discussion about aperture, focal length and hyperfocal distance. But that also leads to a discussion on how sharp focus everywhere in an image may detract from the strength and perception of the image’s subject, and from the image’s overall impact. Consider portrait photography, where an aperture with shallow depth of field is often used, like f/2.8, so the model will stand out against a blurred background. At 200mm, an f-stop like f/11 can get key parts of the Joshua tree like the truck and needles sharp, while allowing distant background objects to go soft and not compete for attention.

So where should you focus? Ask yourself “What is the subject? while you’re composing. If you can’t immediately identify and commit to what the subject is, do you really have a subject, and is it presented in a strong enough composition? You could argue that some shots don’t need a clear subject. That often works for a postcard shot. After all, literally millions of people each year stop at Yosemite’s Tunnel View overlook of Yosemite Valley, and they come away with a result worthy of sharing on social media, or even a print. But I’d argue that it works exactly because El Capitan is likely to serve as the subject, and be in a decent position in the frame, even if it’s not consciously intended to be. Even in an abstract composition, like a pattern or texture, I propose that you can usually still identify some part that is more interesting or more prominent due to lighting, and highlight the portions viewers will be drawn to, in a strong compositional placement. I propose that compared to a random composition, a deliberate one will almost always prevail. 

If you can’t decide at the time what works and why, try a few options, and decide later what works best. This may seem like heresy to some photographers, but hear me out. I’ve found over time, after capturing millions of frames and editing tens or hundreds of thousands of them, that I often prefer different compositions on my computer than I did when exploring them in the viewfinder. And after adjustment, since we can affect how a viewer finds and experiences the subject, I may prefer even different images in the end than I initially selected upon displaying the images on my computer. If I had tried to capture the subject using the “one shot” rule, I would have lost many of the early favorites apparent when I first uploaded the images, and I almost certainly wouldn’t have captured, let alone produced, my best image. People who have steadfastly followed the “one shot” rule since their film days would never experience and learn this. This sequence of outcomes becomes even more apparent when I revisit a folder weeks, months or years later. I just picked my current favorite image from last year, and it wasn’t one that I flagged or post-proecessed when I first returned fom our Yosemite fall colors trip two months ago. The process gets even more complicated if someone wants a print months or years from now. I’ll re-edit the image they want, plus an alternate one that’s similar, and they often want the new one. And that one may not be my favorite. At the end of the day, I can’t have my own best image if I don’t have the variations to select from and to work on later, nor can I produce someone else’s favorite image from the shoot if I don’t have the variations to select from. So while I shoot for myself, that often benefits everyone when I’m presenting options later to someone else.

A sometimes contentious topic and option is cropping. Most of us have plenty of image sensor resolution to allow cropping. But some people claim cropping is a failure to properly compose at the time of image capture. Nonsense. The “Images must be composed during exposure” mantra ignores the various different form factors of different screen shapes and print sizes. It also ignores the image border lost when a print is matted. People who badmouth cropping may be entirely ignorant of the simple fact that a printer leaves a few pixels off all sides of print, so as not to risk having white strips if the paper isn’t exactly where it ideally should be in the printer, down to some microscopic fraction of an inch. The logical remedy to print loss and matting loss is to compose wider than what you expect to need in a finished, matted print to show. And it pays to compose wide enough to accomodate common print shapes: 8″ x 10″ (4 x 5), 20′ x 30″ (a common sensor 2 x 3 shape), and so on, perhaps with anough extra for a “gallery wrap” canvas. So why does it seem to be human nature to some extent to form and to cling to entirely counterproductive rules? The first explanation that occurs to me is perhaps it seems safe. If we can all agree to do something one way, we can all approve of each others’ results, and following the herd will help ensure that we get that herd approval. For photography I much prefer Ansel’s advice: “There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.” That seemed to work pretty well for him, didn’t it? It’s fine to understand and incorporate rules when they’re helpful, but the sooner you choose at times to discard them, the faster your work will become more interesting and distinctive. More personal. Sure, use rules at first as a crutch if you’re just starting out (or just starting to break free of the chains), but quickly start to decide where the rules don’t work for you, or don’t work in certain situations, and do what works better. For you. Develop more confidence in your path, your rules, your flaunting of “The Rules”, and I suggest that this approach will be far more rewarding than trying to toe the line of the imaginary goals, the restrictions holding everyone else back.

The rules don’t physically exist. Imagine something different, something beyond them. You get to decide what that is. Stop seeking conformity and approval, and with no small amount of irony you may get far more approval in the end. Or if you don’t get “success” in the form of approval (likes and comments on Instagram for example), if you’re practicing photography for yourself, who cares? Independence breeds confidence, which breeds satisfaction. Goals like social media approval offer only fleeting rewards and are rooted outside of yourself, inherently driving many people to depression. Social media companies have been hauled before Congress this week to talk about how harmful they are to teenagers and young adults, but the conversation around the recognition of that problem has been going on for many years. Your freedom from external rules and fleeting rewards, your individual creativity, and following your own rules and your own path are a healthier approach, and probably a much more productive and rewarding one as well. 

One more note on the subject matter here… In some ways there may also a subtle “desert vs. snow” vibe capturing a desert plant against a snowy peak, but that takes advantage of a misconception. Joshua trees actually thrive up above the snow line, where snow carries moisture farther into the warming spring and summer seasons. Spend some time in a blizzard in the Joshua trees, and you’ll see the leaves/needles of the Joshua tree capture the wind-driven snow. Higher altitudes get more precipitation, and it’s also cooler up there, providing the Joshua trees with a more favorable environment that enables moisture to be present in the soil in greater quantity and for longer periods oft time. Other plants like the Mojave aster, Indian paintbrush, and bear poppies also thrive where the conditions are just right. 

Not everyone wants composition advice on our workshops, and that’s fine. One of the main values we deliver is site knowledge, coupled with deep experience with seasonal conditions and weather. To illustrate this, over time I’ve collected 1600 photographs in my Death Valley National Park album over on Flickr. If you might like to join us sometime, check out our upcoming photography workshops in Death Valley.