The Photography Class: Act IV

Here is the long-awaited and chilling conclusion to a most unusual evening. Make sure you've already read about the peculiarities leading up to this finale.

The Photography Class: Act I can be found if you click here.
The Photography Class: Act II can be found if you click here.

The Photography Class: Act III can be found if you click here.

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The final portion focused on the Adobe Lightroom software in a show-and-tell format. Now this was the part I’d most eagerly anticipated, because so many of the pictures I've taken have resulted in glowing red eyes and shadowy backlit figures. I would finally learn how to correct for these problems so that my pictures would capture what my eyes had seen.

The conversation began with a discussion of things that are raw, specifically files. Apparently this is desirable, because you can do more things if your files are raw and less things if your files are jpg. None of this concerned me because my camera doesn't do anything raw, but it was entertaining to observe the expressions on the other class members' faces.

Next, the instructor used someone's raw flower image to demonstrate simple things like sharpening and blurring, intensifying colors here, illuminating there.

Landscape (raw) and waterfall (raw) were united with a decidedly un-flimsy "Watch how we will make this pop!"

The bricks of the bridge became brighter as the shadow was lifted. The trees and grass got greener; the blue of the sky took on an ethereal intensity. Something happened to the waterfall (which was a basic fountain variety) along the way, and now it looked odd. Shiny and gritty, like sugar or sandpaper. The small decorative man-made pond surrounding it began to look-- there is no other way to say this-- crunchy.

Beautiful? 

I guess so. 

But I'd witnessed the original scene first-hand, and this was not it. This amped-up ramped-up image was posing--and imposing-- as the lasting memory of the day. 

It didn't seem right to force beauty and authenticity to compete.

I felt extra-sorry for the subject of the portrait, although you could tell that the picture wasn't a sneak-attack because she was scowling directly into the camera. By the time the instructor finished the photo-makeover, Sourpuss Sally had highlights in her hair, several blemishes and a birthmark removed, few (if any) crow's feet, whiter teeth, and...  enhanced eye-color to match her teal scarf.

The woman on the screen looked like a distant relative of the woman in seat four of row three, and I felt the familiar queasiness that comes from moral conflict starting to rise within me.

"Virtual genetic engineering," I whispered to the lady beside me, who may have nodded in agreement. Or she may have craned her neck to see the screen at that exact moment. One of those two things happened, though.

It seemed irresponsible to do all that re-touching. The Art of Photography had become more art than photography. Anyone who saw those photos would surely be disheartened by reality. After seeing how much work needed to be done to make her 'pop', how could Sourpuss Sally ever look in the mirror and feel pretty again? 

I'm not sure what happened from that point forward because I stopped looking and listening. My focus fell into the deep cave of my brain where all the most intense wonderings echo and collide and part ways again.

Everyone was packing up their coolers. Egress ensued. I thanked the instructor as I left, because that is the gracious thing to do, and I offered my condolences about the dog because that is the compassionate thing to do. I wasn't sure I'd really learned anything, though. If I did learn something, I don't think it was the kind of learning that the instructor had intended.

Somehow I left with more questions than I'd had when I'd arrived. How much should we edit photography? Is there a line that can be crossed? Why was I okay with some aspects of editing and horrified by others? How much of what we see has been distorted by someone else's perception of art or beauty?

I would never look at the photos in National Geographic the same way.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said when I arrived home. I needed time to think because all the thoughts in my mind were just so blurry. Then I realized that maybe blurriness is not the enemy. Blurriness tends to occur when things are in motion or when there's not enough light. Blurriness is a part of life-- things that are too clear too quickly can be surreal or suspicious and are often not authentic.

I've decided to accept the blurry images for their reality, and those few clear shots when everything slows down and the truth is illuminated will serve as my own definition for the art of photography.