Assignment 4 – Languages of Light

For this assignment, I revisited the theme of artificial light, using my local environment in Woodend as my subject. I’ve always been drawn to the dark, moody aesthetics created by ambient lighting and neon signs, particularly at night when artificial lights stand out more vividly. This fascination became the foundation for my project, where I explored the relationship between light, space, and atmosphere. I wanted to show how everyday spaces, when lit in certain ways, could evoke feelings of isolation, nostalgia, or quiet beauty.

Developing the original exercise from Part 4 into a full assignment helped me move beyond simply documenting artificial light. Instead, I used light as an emotional device, crafting scenes that felt cinematic rather than purely observational. I had to adapt quickly when unexpected rain began falling, but I embraced it, allowing reflections and wet surfaces to amplify the atmosphere I was trying to capture. This challenged me to be more resourceful and observant, pushing my creative thinking further.

My work was strongly influenced by several practitioners. Todd Hido’s House Hunting series had a major impact on my approach. His images of suburban homes at night, often softly glowing in otherwise dark landscapes, capture an emotional stillness I wanted to reflect in my own photographs. His use of light to isolate subjects and create atmosphere informed many of my compositional choices.

Alongside Hido, Edward Hopper’s paintings, especially his night scenes of diners and gas stations, also shaped my thinking. Hopper’s work evokes solitude through light, space, and the way figures, or their absence, are framed within settings. I aimed to recreate a similar quiet tension without relying on obvious narratives.

The staged, cinematic lighting in Gregory Crewdson’s work also provided some visual inspiration. It reminded me to be deliberate about how artificial light defines mood, even though my approach was far less staged.

Finally, Sinziana Velicescu’s minimalist cityscapes and use of car light trails inspired me to experiment with movement and reflections, seeking beauty in otherwise overlooked urban scenes.

Technically, I shot using manual settings to manage the challenging lighting conditions. I kept ISO on auto to focus on aperture and shutter speed adjustments. I opened the aperture between f/4.5 and f/8 to gather more light, depending on the available illumination. For scenes involving light trails or very dark environments, I used slower shutter speeds, between two and five seconds, to allow movement to blur into glowing streaks. Without a tripod, I stabilized the camera on railings, car roofs, or handheld the shots as steadily as possible. As a result, some natural motion blur appeared in a few images, but rather than detracting from the work, I believe it contributed to the ethereal, cinematic quality I was aiming for.

The final series includes ten images. Rain falling on a car window at traffic lights created dreamy, abstract colors. A light trail shot captured movement across the street corner. A house porch illuminated by an outdoor light yielded a slightly blurred but ghostly image, enhancing the feeling of otherworldliness. Other photographs included a car and garage lit starkly by a single bulb, a train pausing at a wet, reflective platform, and the local pub corner shimmering with neon green light and fairy lights. I also photographed a warmly lit shopfront, a solitary neon sign in a window, and water droplets on my car window to conclude the sequence.

In assessing my work, I believe the strongest aspect is how the rain unified the images, adding consistent texture, mood, and reflection across the series. The contrast between the dynamic light trails and the stillness of other scenes created a strong visual rhythm. I am particularly happy with how composition and reflections helped build depth and layering within the frames, often leading the viewer’s eye naturally through the scene.

The main weaknesses stem from the technical limitations of not having a tripod. Some images, like the porch scene, contain more blur than I intended. However, upon reflection, these imperfections contribute to the dreamlike atmosphere I sought. In a few cases, framing could have been wider to create more breathing room around the subjects. Some compositions feel a little too tight, slightly disconnecting the scene from its environment. In hindsight, varying focal lengths more might have improved the sense of space and enhanced the cinematic quality I wanted.

Overall, I feel this project successfully captures the intimate, often overlooked relationship between artificial light and everyday spaces in Woodend. By focusing on small moments—the glow of a streetlamp, reflections on wet pavement, or the neon flicker of a pub sign, I aimed to transform ordinary settings into something emotionally resonant. I also feel I met the criteria for Creativity by adapting to conditions, experimenting with light and movement, and developing a personal, imaginative response to the brief. This assignment helped build my confidence in crafting atmosphere through photography and deepened my connection to the subjects I photograph.

Bibliography

Hido, T. House Hunting. At: http://www.toddhido.com/househunting.html [accessed 27/4/2025]

Crewdson, G. Gagosian Gallery. At: https://gagosian.com/artists/gregory-crewdson/ [accessed 27/4/2025]

Hopper, E. Edward Hopper – Official Website. At: https://www.edwardhopper.net/ [accessed 27/4/2025]

Velicescu, S. Exteriors – Commercial Architecture. At: https://www.sinzianavelicescu.com/commercial-architecture/exteriors [accessed 27/4/2025]

Contact Sheet

4.4 – Personal Voice

When I started Exercise 4.4, I searched “banana” on Google Images expecting randomness. What I actually found was a grid of bright yellow bananas on plain backgrounds, stock-photo style. It felt clinical, repetitive, and far from creative. Each image more or less a carbon copy of the one beside it. They all conformed to an idea of what a banana should look like: unbruised, isolated, centered, glowing. That sameness is exactly what I wanted to challenge.

Rather than take a perfect banana portrait, I explored ways to make this everyday object feel unfamiliar, funny, dramatic, or even uncomfortable. I shot the banana as a bruised imperfect body; as a lonely figure abandoned in a jar; as a factory item in a lineup; as something absurdly human sunbathing outside.

Each image played with a different approach to creativity:

Personal Response: I used humour and mood like sunbathing bananas or forgotten ones in cupboards, to add character.
Experimentation: I shot from above, close-up, and through glass. I used backlighting, natural shadows, and edited in both black and white and colour.
Challenging Conventions: Where Google showed bananas in idealised, smooth forms, I focused on imperfections like bruises, soft spots, and places they don’t belong.

I thought about Bill Brandt’s idea of photographing what the camera sees rather than what we expect to see. Some of my close-ups revealed textures and patterns I wouldn’t normally notice. In another way, I tried Ernst Haas’ method. Looking at the banana long enough until it became something new, until I could re-see it with curiosity.

The sunbathing banana was my favourite. There’s something ridiculous and charming about a banana lying in the sunlight like it’s on holiday. It’s a quiet scene, but it made me laugh and that felt important. The pose, the light, and the absurdity gave it a kind of personality.

To edit it, I warmed the tones to enhance the afternoon sunlight and added contrast to exaggerate the shadow. I left a bit of space around it to make it feel like a tiny beach scene. It’s familiar, but not. That tension between ordinary and strange felt creative to me.

Each image aimed to say something slightly different, either through lighting, setting, or framing. Some made the banana feel incidental. Others made it the star. I used natural light and shadows, tight crops, and varied angles to find unusual perspectives.

This exercise made me realise how easy it is to fall into expected ways of photographing something. But it also showed me how much fun it can be to play with those expectations. Instead of aiming for a perfect product shot, I looked for emotion, humour, and story. Even in a single piece of fruit.

It reminded me that creativity often comes from how you see, not what you see. And it helped me move a little closer to developing my own voice, even if that voice (for now) is a bit banana-shaped.

4.3: Egg or Stone – Ex Nihilo

This exercise was about creating light from scratch, building it “ex nihilo” instead of discovering it out in the world. With no natural lighting to rely on, I had to build an environment where I could fully control the light’s quality, contrast, direction and colour to reveal the form of a simple, organic object.

I chose to work with an egg, focusing on how light could bring out its shape, surface and presence within the frame. I placed the egg on a small lid so that it would stand up by itself. My “studio” was minimal. I used a desk with a lamp as my main light source. Two pieces of white paper created the background.

The first image was a classic soft portrait, with the lamp placed just above and slightly behind the camera, directly facing the egg. This created soft, even lighting that gently wrapped around the egg, producing minimal shadows and a neutral, balanced mood. It felt clean and simple. A kind of lighting you might use for a traditional headshot or product photo.

For the second shot, I moved the light to a 45-degree angle to the side of the egg. This created a much more dramatic look, with strong contrast between the illuminated and shadowed areas. The hard light brought out the shape and curvature of the egg more clearly, carving it out from the background and giving it a sculptural, intense presence.

In the third shot, I kept the light in the same 45-degree side position but changed the camera angle to a bird’s eye view. Looking down on the egg from above created a more abstract composition, where the sideways shadows fell across the surface in interesting ways. It felt less like a portrait and more like a study of form and space.

The fourth shot used backlighting to shift the mood completely. I positioned the lamp behind the egg, angled slightly toward it, so that the light created a glow around the edges. The front of the egg fell into shadow, which made exposure a bit trickier, but the result had a soft halo effect and a mysterious, dramatic feel. It almost looked like the egg was silhouetted, which was a nice change from the earlier setups.

Finally, the fifth shot placed the light directly overhead, while the camera returned to a front-on portrait position. This setup created a symmetrical spotlight effect, with soft shadows falling evenly around the base of the egg. It flattened the form a little but gave the image a clean, graphic look, almost like a product shot, but with a more focused, isolated mood.

What really stood out to me in this task was just how much impact small lighting changes can have. Shifting the position of the lamp or changing the angle of the camera altered the entire feel of the photo. Even with a simple object and a minimal setup, there were endless possibilities. It reminded me that in studio photography, the light becomes the subject in many ways. It’s not just what you’re photographing, but how you reveal it.

This was a great chance to practice being deliberate and thoughtful with lighting, and I came away with a deeper appreciation for how light behaves and how much control you really have over it, even with the most basic tools.

4.2 – Artificial Light

For this exercise, I wanted to focus on observing and capturing the unique qualities of artificial light rather than just using it to light up a subject. I wanted to pay attention to the mood the light created, not just whether the image was correctly exposed.

Neon Light

The first set of images was taken indoors using a rainbow neon light in a bedroom. I noticed how the light didn’t just brighten the room but actually altered the atmosphere, adding color, shape, and softness to the space. In the first image, the light was casting a strong glow onto the nearby wall, spreading the colored light and creating a soft, ambient effect. The light looked less like a direct source and more like a color wash across the room. The settings were 1/250 sec, f/4.5, ISO 800. The exposure allowed for a balanced shot that captured the glow, but the light appeared more diffused and soft, with the reflection playing just as big a role as the light source itself.

For the second image, I changed the shutter speed to 1/1000 sec while keeping the aperture and ISO the same. This adjustment reduced the light captured from the surroundings, making the neon sign itself appear much bolder, sharper, and more defined. The settings were 1/1000 sec, f/4.5, ISO 800. The glow on the wall was almost entirely lost in this shot, and the light became the main focus of the composition. I liked how this created a more graphic, contrast-heavy look compared to the softer atmosphere in the first photo. It also reminded me of the difference between ambient light and direct light in studio setups, even though this was a bedroom scene.

Computer Screen Light

The next two photos I took were of a computer screen in a room. I found this setup interesting because the computer acts as both the subject and the light source.

In the first image, I adjusted the camera settings to 1/100 sec, f/5, ISO 800 until the exposure looked balanced to my eye. The result was a fairly accurate representation of how the scene looked. The screen wasn’t overly bright, and the room was just dark enough to give the photo a sense of contrast.

For the second image, I deliberately adjusted my settings, so the exposure meter was set at 0, which required lowering the shutter speed to 1/60. This change brightened the overall image, especially the room around the screen, and reduced the intensity of the screen glow, making the environment more visible. It was a simple but useful demonstration of how adjusting to the meter’s “perfect exposure” isn’t always the most atmospheric choice. Sometimes slightly underexposing gives the scene a more natural or dramatic look.

Bedroom Lamp Light

Next, I photographed a lamp in a dark bedroom, which gave me a chance to see how artificial light changes the mood depending on exposure choices.

In the first shot, I set my camera to 1/200 sec, f/4.5, ISO 1600. I kept the exposure meter at 0 by using a high ISO and moderate shutter speed. This gave me an evenly lit scene, where the lamp’s light filled the room and softened the shadows.

For the second shot, I set it to 1/250 sec, f/4.5, ISO 800. I wanted the light to feel more moody and intimate, so I adjusted the settings to darken the exposure. I reduced the ISO and used a slightly faster shutter speed, which kept the lamp’s glow more contained and the rest of the room dimmer.

This comparison showed me how important intention is when shooting with artificial light. It isn’t just about making sure a photo is properly exposed but about using exposure to shape the feeling of the scene.

Street Light & Car Headlights

After experimenting indoors, I moved outside after dark to capture the effect of streetlights and passing car headlights.

In my first outdoor image, I used the settings ISO 6400, f/8, 1/20s. My goal wasn’t to photograph the light source itself, but rather to show the way the artificial light shaped and illuminated the space creating an orange glow throughout. This light felt very different from the sharp, direct rays of sunlight; it was more localized and atmospheric.

For the next two shots, I experimented with slow shutter speeds to introduce movement and play with the exposure of the scene. I set the shutter to 1/4s and kept the ISO at 6400 to compensate for the low light. The first image came out too bright with an aperture of f/14, so I adjusted the aperture to f/20 for the next shot, which created a better balance and allowed the glow from the streetlights and the streaks of car headlights to be more visible without overexposing the scene.

Reflection

Comparing these artificial light shots to the daylight images I captured in Exercise 4.1, the differences are striking. Daylight typically produces a more natural and evenly distributed light, whereas artificial light often creates strong contrasts, defined edges, and a particular mood or atmosphere.

Artificial sources like neon, lamps, and streetlights introduce a wide range of color temperatures, which can create mixed and sometimes conflicting tones within the same frame. I found this especially interesting when car headlights and streetlights interacted in the same shot. The cool white light of the headlights contrasted against the warm orange glow of the streetlamps, creating a layered and dynamic composition.

Using artificial light, I felt like I had more creative freedom to manipulate the mood of the scene, especially by adjusting shutter speed and aperture to control exposure and the way light shaped the space.

One thing I learned during this exercise is how much potential there is for creative experimentation with slow shutter speeds. While I was happy with the balance I achieved at 1/4s, in future shoots I’d like to slow the shutter even more to capture more defined and fluid light trails. Especially with moving light sources like car headlights. I think this could help add a stronger sense of motion and energy to my night photography.

4.1 – Daylight

While preparing for this exercise, I explored the work of Eugène Atget, whose street photography I was already drawn to earlier in the course. What stood out to me this time was how his approach to light shifted throughout his career. In his early photographs, Atget used bright, even midday light, which helped create clear, shadowless scenes and emphasized the documentary nature of his work. However, in his later images, I noticed he began using early morning light to introduce deeper shadows and a more atmospheric mood. This change in lighting created more emotional weight and turned ordinary streets into places that felt timeless and quiet.

I was inspired by this shift when shooting my own images for this exercise. I waited until the light was softer, around sunrise or sunset, to capture not just the subject but the mood the light created. Like Atget, I found that the quality of the light changed the entire feeling of the scene, making the same street feel either clear and factual or mysterious and reflective depending on the time of day.

For my own photos, I decided to focus on the changing light during the evening as the sun was going down. I wanted to observe how the light affected both the appearance and the mood of my surroundings, particularly through shadows, highlights, and color.

Image 1: Trees & Sunlight on Leaves
The first image I captured shows the tops of some trees as the low sun caught the leaves at different angles. I noticed how the light changed the colors of the leaves. The ones in direct sunlight appeared vibrant and warm, while the shaded areas stayed cooler and more muted. The settings were 1/80 sec, f/10, ISO 400. The smaller aperture helped keep more of the scene in focus, allowing the contrast between light and shadow to stand out clearly.

Image 2: Sunstar Through Leaves
In the second image, I positioned myself so the sun was breaking through the tree leaves and adjusted my settings to create a sun star effect. The settings were 1/500 sec, f/8, ISO 400. The smaller aperture helped define the star shape, while the faster shutter speed controlled the exposure against the bright sun.

Images 3–6: Testing Settings for Light & Exposure
For the next set of four images, I experimented with different settings while keeping a similar composition. I wanted to see how adjustments would affect the exposure and overall feel of the image as the light faded.

Image 3: 1/4000 sec, f/8, ISO 400
Image 4: 1/4000 sec, f/16, ISO 400
Image 5: 1/500 sec, f/8, ISO 100
Image 6: 1/500 sec, f/8, ISO 400

The first two images are very similar, but I adjusted the aperture from f/8 to f/16 to test depth and sharpness, while maintaining the same shutter and ISO. The last two show how lowering the ISO to 100 in image 5 required a careful balance with the available light compared to ISO 400 in image 6. This part of the exercise taught me how changing one setting directly affects the others, especially when trying to preserve the natural feel of the scene.

Images 7 & 8: Chasing Light on the Walk Back
As I was walking back to the car, the sun was almost set, and I spotted an interesting composition. I took two images, one landscape and one portrait, to compare how framing would affect the sense of space. Since the light was dropping fast, I had to change my settings between the two shots even though the composition was the same.

Image 7 (Landscape): 1/500 sec, f/8, ISO 800
Image 8 (Portrait): 1/500 sec, f/16, ISO 3200

Despite the big difference in aperture and ISO, both images look very similar, showing how adjusting exposure settings can compensate for fading natural light without changing the visual outcome too much. This also highlighted how flexible light management can be in manual mode.

Throughout this exercise, I realised that natural light doesn’t just illuminate a subject. It can completely change the emotion and meaning of a photograph. I learned that even small adjustments to aperture, ISO, and shutter speed allowed me to either capture the light more truthfully or control the mood to suit how I felt in the moment.

Experimenting with different compositions and exposures, especially when the light was fading, gave me the chance to be more deliberate and thoughtful about when to press the shutter, rather than rushing to capture the scene before the light disappeared.

Looking at the work of Eugène Atget also encouraged me to slow down and let the light speak for itself, especially in the final two images, where the falling light made the ordinary scene feel more meaningful. A similar quality I admire in his street photographs.

This exercise helped me to develop both my technical control and my creative thinking, especially in recognizing how light can turn an everyday moment into something expressive. I believe this shows growth towards the Creativity criteria, as I was not only experimenting with different camera settings but also making intentional decisions based on how the light made me feel.

Bibliography

International Center of Photography (ICP). (n.d.). Hotel de Clermont-Tonnerre, Rue de Cherche-Midi. Eugène Atget. At: https://www.icp.org/browse/archive/objects/hotel-de-clermont-tonnerre-rue-de-cherche-midi [accessed 19/04/25]

Light Meter Test

Photography literally means “light writing”. It comes from the Greek language; phos meaning light and graphie meaning writing. Whether using film cameras or digital, light is the core ingredient that makes the photo. Cameras use a light meter to measure how much light is in the scene. In auto and semi-auto modes, the camera can’t tell if something is actually black and white so it tries to balance the exposure around the mid-tone which is neutral grey.

Auto/Semi-Auto Mode

First, I set my camera to Program Mode (P), a semi-automatic setting where the camera handles both aperture and shutter speed. I kept ISO at the default and made sure the exposure compensation was set to zero. I took three separate photos, framing each so that each tone, black, grey, or white) filled the viewfinder entirely.

When I reviewed the images, I noticed that all three looked fairly similar in brightness, despite their real-world differences. The black cloth looked too light, and the white paper looked duller and darker than expected. The histograms for each photo were also almost identical, clustered around the middle of the graph.

This made it clear: the camera’s light meter was trying to balance each scene to match a mid-tone grey, rather than recording the true tone of the subject. A black surface, a grey floor, and a white paper were all treated the same, even though they clearly weren’t.

Manual Mode

After testing in Program Mode, I switched my camera to Manual Mode (M). I set the ISO to 400 and the aperture to f/5.6, then adjusted the shutter speed for each photo until the exposure looked right in the viewfinder. I photographed the same three subjects, black cloth, grey floor, and white paper, framing them exactly as before.

This time, the results were much more accurate. The black cloth stayed dark, the grey floor appeared as a true mid-tone, and the white paper looked bright, just as I expected it to. When I checked the histograms, they clearly reflected these differences:

The black cloth histogram sat further to the left.
The grey floor was positioned neatly in the center.
The white paper shifted further to the right.

Adjusting the exposure manually gave me much more control over the final image, and the histograms confirmed that the camera was now recording the tones correctly, rather than trying to average everything to a mid-grey.

Reflection

At first, I struggled to fully understand this exercise. It was hard to get my head around how the camera’s light meter interprets a scene and why the images looked so similar in auto mode, even though the subjects were completely different in real life.

Once I switched to manual mode and started adjusting the shutter speed myself, the results finally clicked into place. Seeing the histograms shift, with the black photo sitting to the left, the grey in the middle, and the white to the right, helped me understand how much control I actually have over exposure when I’m not relying on the camera to make decisions for me.

This exercise really highlighted the difference between allowing the camera to guess the exposure, and making those decisions as the photographer. Although it took me a bit of trial and error to work it out, it’s made me feel more confident using manual mode going forward, especially in situations where the lighting is consistent.

Assignment 3 – The (In)decisive Moment

For this assignment, I wanted to explore the photographic concept of the decisive moment. A term famously associated with Henri Cartier-Bresson, while also reflecting on the opposite: the quiet, unresolved indecisive moment. Both ideas fascinated me, especially as I noticed that the world around me is constantly moving, yet most human behavior falls somewhere between pause and flow. By observing people in public spaces, I became aware of just how many seemingly uneventful moments can hold visual tension and emotion.

My photographic series was captured around Melbourne, specifically near the waterfront, parks, and urban streets. I allowed myself to photograph whatever naturally unfolded rather than wait too long for the “perfect” moment. This approach allowed me to observe how the two themes emerged organically in the everyday.

Decisive Moments:

I define a decisive moment as that instant when all elements in a scene such as light, shape, subject, and background, align to create a visually complete and emotionally satisfying image. These images don’t require explanation; their strength lies in the clarity of the moment.

One example is a photo of a couple sitting on a bench as the world moves past behind them. Their stillness creates a powerful contrast against the life flowing around them. Similarly, another couple sat on the grass nearby, absorbed in their own world, creating an intimate moment that felt timeless even in a busy setting. A third example captured a man raising his camera to photograph the Melbourne skyline. A split-second alignment of human intention and environmental beauty.

Indecisive Moments:

The indecisive moments in this series focus on the unspectacular but quietly telling in-between states. These are fragments of time where the narrative feels incomplete or paused, inviting curiosity.

One image shows a woman stopping mid-walk to check her phone. Her stillness hints at disconnection from her surroundings, almost as if the world kept moving while she stood still. Another photograph shows people waiting at a crossing, their postures loaded with anticipation. Finally, a family captured just before climbing into a minivan reflects a similar idea: the moment before action, where energy is held rather than released.

Perhaps the most compelling example of this theme came about unintentionally. As I descended an escalator onto a train platform, I captured people waiting for the train below. The resulting image had a grainy texture, partly due to the lighting conditions and motion, which echoed the aesthetic of a film camera. The grain, combined with the quiet, anticipatory scene, enhanced the sense of suspended time.

Reflection:

Throughout this assignment, I was reminded of Alberto Giacometti’s insights on the conflict between seeing the whole and focusing on detail. Despite Giacometti being a masterful draughtsman, he found it almost impossible to concentrate on the entire figure without losing sight of its individual parts and vice versa. He learned that rather than forcing concentration, the answer was to allow the eye and brain to flow naturally between the two. I felt a similar shift when photographing this series. The most successful moments came when I stopped trying to “control” the scene and allowed instinct to guide me.

Photographically, this project has taught me that both decisive and indecisive moments hold value, and both require patience and observation to capture. The key isn’t always about seizing action, but rather recognizing when a composition, whether resolved or suspended, can hold emotional or visual interest.

This assignment allowed me to reflect on the everyday with a new eye, noticing patterns and pauses I’d usually overlook. By embracing both sides of the moment, I feel my understanding of photographic timing and visual storytelling has deepened.

Influences

Henri Cartier-Bresson — The Decisive Moment
Alberto Giacometti — on perception and the relationship between part and whole
Ruth Bernhard — “If you are not willing to see more than is visible, you won’t see anything.”
Street photographers such as Joel Meyerowitz and Matt Stuart, who celebrate both the unexpected and the understated in public scenes.

Bibliography

Cartier-Bresson, H. (1952). The Decisive Moment. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Lord, J. (1965). Giacometti: A Biography. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Meyerowitz, J. (n.d.). Joel Meyerowitz. [online] At: https://www.joelmeyerowitz.com/ [accessed 12/04/25].

Stuart, M. (n.d.). Matt Stuart Photography. [online] At: https://www.mattstuart.com/ [accessed 12/04/25].

3.3 – What Matters is to Look

For this exercise, I visited Point Ormond Viewpoint in Melbourne, a location that offers a wide panoramic view overlooking the bay and the city skyline. I chose it because of the distinct layers it presented, from the foreground right through to the horizon, making it ideal for practicing the act of seeing as described in the brief.

I started by observing the foreground, where a man stood next to his bike, enjoying the view. He was positioned slightly off-centre, adding an organic touch of life and movement to the scene. His presence grounded the composition and gave me an immediate focal point to work from.

Next, I looked at the middle ground. A paved path stretched into the distance, acting as a strong leading line that disappeared into the trees. It guided my eye toward the rest of the scene and created a natural flow through the composition. I noticed how the line of the path created a rhythm, like a visual bridge between the man and the faraway city.

Then my focus reached the background, where the Melbourne city skyline came into view. The skyscrapers stood tall on the horizon, slightly hazy from the sun, but still sharp enough to create a beautiful contrast against the soft blue sky. This layer gave the image its sense of depth and scale. A reminder of the relationship between nature and the built environment.

Finally, I looked up to the sky, a brilliant blue canvas with the sun glistening off the water below. The light bouncing off the bay added a sense of calm and clarity, tying the whole scene together in a wash of warmth and brightness.

Once I felt that I could see everything all together as a single unified view rather than in isolated parts, I raised my camera and took the photo. It was surprisingly difficult to maintain awareness of the whole scene at once. My eyes kept wanting to jump to individual elements, but I found that softening my gaze helped me hold the entire picture in my mind. It became less about focusing and more about being open to everything at once.

This exercise reminded me how easily we miss the bigger picture when we get caught up in details. It also echoed Giacometti’s challenge where he struggled with capturing both the whole figure and its details simultaneously. The photograph I captured is simple, but to me it holds the balance between stillness and movement, closeness and distance, man and city.

It was a powerful reminder that what matters is to look, really look, and to trust that the act of seeing itself is just as important as the shot you take.

Contact Sheet

3.1 – Freeze

For this exercise, I photographed a person mid-jump using a fast shutter speed of 1/1000 to freeze the movement in place. I kept the camera in Shutter Priority mode and adjusted the ISO higher to allow for a bright enough exposure. I didn’t use continuous shooting mode, so I had to time the shot manually, trying to capture the subject at the peak of their jump.

Rather than changing angles, I experimented by adjusting the focal length. This helped me understand how zooming in or out can affect both the background compression and how dynamic the jump appears within the frame.

Although I didn’t use burst mode or vary my shooting angle this time, I learned a lot through the limitations. It was trickier to time the jump just right, but when I caught it, the results felt rewarding. Freezing the subject mid-air with no visible motion blur created a sense of tension and lightness that isn’t noticeable in real time. I found myself paying attention to smaller details like posture, hair movement, and the positioning of limbs.

Szarkowski’s quote about the “momentary patterning of lines and shapes” felt especially relevant—I could see a beauty in the temporary arrangement of the body in space, almost like it was choreographed. Next time, I’d like to incorporate continuous shooting and experiment with angles to see how those choices change the feel of the final image.

I was fascinated by Harold Edgerton’s work because of how it made the invisible visible. His ultra-fast flash techniques froze motion so precisely that a bullet piercing an apple or a drop of milk forming a perfect coronet suddenly became sculptural. What stood out to me wasn’t just the technical achievement, but the way he captured beauty in everyday physics. Moments that are too fast for the human eye to register.

Looking at his images made me realise how photography isn’t just about documenting. It’s about revealing. This has influenced how I approached my own jumping photos. While I didn’t use quite as fast a shutter speed or specialised lighting, I was aiming for that same idea: to pause time and highlight something fleeting and usually unseen. His work has inspired me to keep exploring how I can use my camera not just to record reality, but to reframe and transform it.

Bibliography

Edgerton, H. International Center of Photography. At: https://www.icp.org/browse/archive/constituents/harold-eugene-edgerton [accessed 1/5/2025]

Contact Sheet

The Decisive Moment

One of the most discussed ideas in photographic history is Henri Cartier-Bresson’s theory of the decisive moment. That exact point at when all visual elements line up to produce a strong, meaningful picture. Originally developed in the 1930s and closely linked to the rise of the 35mm film cameras, this method has motivated generations of street and documentary photographers. Yet in the modern context, it’s also a concept that has drawn criticism.

In the documentary L’amour tout court (2001), Cartier-Bresson himself states:

“It’s always luck. It’s luck that matters, you have to be receptive, that’s all.”

This quote reveals an important contradiction: while the decisive moment sounds intentional, Cartier-Bresson admits that his most famous photograph “Behind the Gare Saint-Lazare” was taken blindly, through railings, without even seeing the subject. As a result, the photograph of a man mid-leap across a puddle, became famous not through planning but through openness, timing, and luck. This suggests that the photographer’s role is not to control but to remain alert and responsive to unfolding events.

Three Differing Perspectives

Henri Cartier-Bresson’s View: Cartier-Bresson saw photography as a way to be present, to see but not necessarily control. He describes photography as a receptive act: “Just be receptive and it happens.” His approach was rooted in intuition and the flow of real life, a philosophy that underpins his belief in the ‘decisive moment.’ Although he frequently invoked in mythology for this term, he himself dismissed it as a consequence of fate rather than talent.

Liz Wells’ Criticism (2009): In Photography: A Critical Introduction, Wells mentioned how documentary photography shifted away from larger narratives to focus on isolated, ambiguous moments. These “little dislocated moments,” may insinuate a deeper meaning but lack the context that gives them weight. This criticism is directly related to the rise of the decisive moment aesthetic, which risks putting form before substance.

“The endeavour to make great statements gave way to the recording of little dislocated moments…” (Wells, 2009, p.73)

Contemporary Responses – Colin Pantall and Zouhair Ghazzal: In his review of Paul Graham’s The Present (2012), Colin Pantall argues that modern life has become too complicated for single, dramatic moments to maintain value. Graham’s work showcases not one decisive moment, but multiple seemingly unremarkable ones, encouraging us to see the ordinary.

“Moments so decisively indecisive that we don’t really know what we are looking at…”

Zouhair Ghazzal echoes this sentiment. Although he admits the decisive moment can still capture something essential, he argues that the modern urban world is too “monotonous and dull” for the kind of clarity Cartier-Bresson sought. Waiting for the perfect moment may no longer be the most effective approach in today’s visual environment, where life seems chaotic and overstimulated.

Personal Reflection

I find Cartier-Bresson’s philosophy deeply inspiring. Especially the idea of being open and receptive to chance. As someone who loves candid photography, I relate to the feeling of knowing when something special is happening, even if it’s fleeting. Sometimes, the best moments are the ones we don’t plan, and that’s where photography feels magical.

That said, I understand the criticisms. In a world oversaturated with photos, especially in street photography, chasing the decisive moment can become more about style than substance. It risks reducing photography to a reflex or gimmick, losing the context that gives meaning.

I appreciate Graham’s and Ghazzal’s viewpoints. There’s something powerful about photographing the in-between moments, the unglamorous and the indecisive. These feel more honest and reflective of modern life, which often isn’t about climaxes, but the subtle flow of time.

At this point in my photography journey, I see the decisive moment as one useful tool in a much broader kit. It’s not the only way to make meaningful images, but it can teach us to stay alert and trust our instincts. Ultimately, photography is about seeing and as Cartier-Bresson says, “What matters is to look.”.

Bibliography

O’Byrne, R. (2001). L’amour tout court [Film]. Vimeo. At: https://vimeo.com/106009378 [accessed 07/04/2025]

Wells, L. (2009). Photography: A Critical Introduction. 4th ed. London: Routledge.

Pantall, C. (2012). The Present by Paul Graham. [online] PhotoEye Magazine. At: https://www.photoeye.com/magazine/reviews/2012/05_17_The_Present.cfm [accessed 07/04/2025]

Ghazzal, Z. (n.d.). Cartier-Bresson and Aleppo. [online] At: http://zouhairghazzal.com/photos/aleppo/cartier-bresson.htm [accessed 07/04/2025]