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Spraygraphic Interview with Photographer David Fokos
By Spraygraphic | March 13, 2010
Spraygraphic Interview with Photographer David Fokos
SG: Please tell us about yourself. Where do you currently live and work?
DF: I am a professional artist making my living through gallery sales of my black & white landscape photographs. My work is represented by a dozen galleries around the world.
My photographs come from many locations, most in the U.S., though a few have been made overseas. My finishing work and printing are done here in San Diego, California where I currently live with my wife, Barbarella, who is a columnist for a local weekly paper.
SG: What mediums do you work with?
DF: I shoot both film and digital, and I now make prints using a high-end Epson printer. Occasionally, I also shoot video.
SG: What kind of equipment do you use?
DF: For the most part I use an 80-year old 8×10 Korona View field camera. At least, that is what I used to make nearly all the images in my portfolio. More recently, I have been experimenting with a 39mp medium-format digital back as well, but let’s begin with the view camera.
I use just one lens – a 210mm Rodenstock Sironar-S. This lens is a wide angle lens on my camera, the equivalent of a 29mm lens on a 35mm camera. Ironically, having only one lens to choose from allows me greater freedom. If I had a number of lenses I would continually be trying to decide which lens to use. When you only have one lens, you never have to think about it. Instead of being paralyzed by indecision, I am free to concentrate on my compositions.
I still often shoot 8×10 film for the following reasons:
a) I make some rather large prints (some as large as 7 ½ feet wide now) and 8×10 film gives me the resolution they require.
b) I often (85% of the time) make use of the perspective distortion achieved by using back-tilt on my view camera, and I can “live preview” the result on my camera’s ground glass.
c) I feel comfortable composing on the 8×10 ground glass.
d) The reciprocity failure of the Tri-X film helps me avoid blowing out the highlights with my long exposures.
That said, here are my views regarding the current state of digital capture…
If we assume that I want to continue making extremely large prints I would say that a high-megapixel medium-format back such as the 39mp capture of the Phase One P45+ is every bit as capable of producing the resolution required – sometimes even more so because the resolution of my film is limited by film grain whereas the Phase One back, when shot at ISO 50, produces extremely grain-free captures, even at long exposure times. For smaller prints, many of the less expensive DSLRs currently available would be just as capable.
I would absolutely love to be able to go all digital. Shooting film is much more difficult. My equipment weighs 60lbs. I have to ship my camera equipment, in advance, to wherever I want to go. When shooting, I go out with 12 sheets of film (at $2+ per sheet). I shoot at least two of everything just in case something happens to one of the negatives. Sometimes, I’ll try different exposure times, different compositions, or different filter combinations. This means that when I go out I am usually only able to take one or two shots before I have to reload my film holders in a darkroom or changing tent. My camera is very susceptible to wind – so windy days and windy places are out. After shooting and then shipping my film and camera equipment home again, I still have to develop my film – 5 sheets at a time in a Jobo (at a cost of $1/sheet). Only then do I have the first chance to see if any of my shots are worthwhile. I then have to scan my negs (another step that may degrade the image, though I scan at 2400 ppi). Finally, after all that I am ready to work on my image.
Conversely, a digital camera would allow me:
a) To carry the camera with me on a plane.
b) Shoot as many frames as I like without reloading film and at no cost.
c) Have instant feedback so that I can check my compositions so if I am off a little, or made some error in exposure, etc., I won’t have to fly halfway around the world again to correct my mistake.
d) To shoot on windy days.
e) Not have to develop film.
f) Not have to scan film.
g) To have files with no film grain.
h) To have captures with a greater dynamic range than film (even more so if one uses HDR techniques).
So, why do I still shoot film? The answer is very specific to the way I work and the kinds of images I like to make. My feeling is that for 99.99% of photographers, my issues would be irrelevant. Specifically, the reciprocity failure of Tri-X film helps me to not blow out my highlights. A digital camera, though its dynamic range is greater than that of film, is much more linear and that still causes me some difficulty with my long exposures (though I’m working on it). Also, I find the perspective distortion of my view camera’s back-tilt to be very useful and, ironically, I can preview the effect on my view camera while composing the image, whereas I would have to wait to get the digital file back to a computer (unless I drag a laptop into the field and work on the digital files in Photoshop which I am loathe to do). Another (minor) issue for me is that I have become used to composing on 80 sq. inches of ground glass (albeit upside-down and backwards), and I find the 2 sq. inches of LCD on the back of a digital camera to be a less than satisfactory substitute. But this is just a personal limitation and I am sure that with time I could learn to deal with it. Finally, at least with regard to the Phase One back, there is some difficulty with the way it responds to the use of extensive neutral density filtering. Though digital cameras generally have an IR blocking filter, the one in the Phase One back seems to be a bit less robust. Therefore, during long exposures employing neutral density filters the image gets contaminated by a lot of IR. One could, of course, try adding an IR blocking filter to the outside of the lens.
So, my personal belief is that for nearly everyone digital is the better way to go – the tools are technically superior. However, that said, some people may still choose to work with film and other older materials — handmade platinum-based paper, for example — for a variety of personal reasons.
In the end it just comes down to the fact that all this technology is just a tool for us to make the images we want to share with the world. One tool may be right for one person but wrong for another. Each of us has to chose what best helps us do our work.
SG: Describe your working process when creating a new work.
DF: My images – which I have been working on for 30 years — are not so much about what is seen but rather what is felt. They are the result of my desire to express to the viewer the essence of my experience in these places, and I have found that my minimalist compositions have been the most effective in this regard.
Some of my thoughts on this subject get quite technical however, to put it simply, I believe that our sense of experience is built up over time – a composite of many short-term events. I will often suggest this analogy: Suppose you meet someone for the first time. Your impression of that person is not a snapshot in your mind of the first time you saw that person, but rather a portrait you have assembled from many separate moments. Each time that person exhibits a new facial expression or hand gesture, you add that into your impression of who that person is. Your image of that person — how you feel about that person — is formed over time, rather than upon a single expression or gesture.
Likewise, I believe that our impression of the world is based upon our total experience. For example, the ocean has always made me feel calm, relaxed, and contented. If I were to take an instantaneous snapshot of the ocean, the photo would include waves with jagged edges, salt spray, and foam. This type of image does not make me feel calm — it does not represent how the ocean makes me feel as I stare out over the water. What I am responding to is the underlying, fundamental form of the ocean, its vast expansiveness and the strong line of the horizon, both of which are very stable, calming forms that I find relaxing. So, I had to find a way to brush away the messy, “visual noise” of the waves to get to the essence of my experience. I have done this by using my camera’s unique ability to average time, through the use of long exposures. In this way I am able to quell the visual noise (e.g. the short-term temporal events like breaking waves or zooming cars) to reveal a sort of hidden world. It is a very real world to be sure – the camera was able to record the scene – it is just not one that we normally experience visually.
Our bodies respond to many types of stimuli. What we see – the visual information – is just one type of stimulus, though it is often the most overpowering of the senses. However, due to the short wavelengths of visible light, this information is presented to us in an infinite series of frozen snapshot moments. Our bodies also react to other types of stimuli on longer time scales – our sense of touch, smell, hearing, etc. The wavelengths of sound waves are much longer than those of light so it takes our body longer to capture a “sound snapshot”. Our skin reacts to sunlight, another stimulus, but how long does it take for us to get a tan or sunburn? The point is that the world exists as a time continuum, not just a frozen snapshot. Our bodies respond to the world in a cumulative way, averaging our experience as we pass through time. Using my camera’s ability to average time through long exposures, I can reveal what our world “looks” like based on a longer time scale. My photographic process acts as a translator – translating from the “invisible” world of non-instantaneous events, into the visible world as a photographic print. In a way, it is like peeling back a page to reveal a world that, while very real, is not experienced visually. We feel it. We sense it. But in general, we don’t see it.
It took me a long time to understand this – 15 years during which my images failed to evoke the emotions I wished to communicate. Then, slowly, I began to sense some change in a few of my shots. And while not entirely successful, there were areas within these shots that hinted at what I was trying to express. I spent a lot of time contemplating why it was that these images were more successful for me than others.
When a scene does not contain movement, a simple instantaneous exposure is sufficient, as a longer exposure would make no difference. The key to these images, much like my time-averaged images, is to frame the shot in such a way as to emphasize what I wish to share and minimize the rest — to remove distractions, to remove the visual noise.
When I make an image I know exactly on what I want the viewer to focus and what I want them to see and feel. By reducing my images to austere minimalist compositions I force the viewer to more closely examine what I have left in the frame thus intensifying the viewer’s observation and appreciation of the few things that remain in the image. In this regard I have been greatly influenced by Japanese aesthetic traditions. In college, I studied Japanese art history, Japanese film, and haiku. I have been greatly inspired by the haiku poet’s ability to convey deeply felt sentiment through a minimal number of words.
When I make images I do not consciously set out to make “photographic haiku,” or to try to illustrate such haiku-related concepts as seijaku (tranquility), sabi (patina and an appreciation of the ephemeral nature of things), yūgen (an unobvious, subtle, profound grace), shizen (without pretense), and wabi (rustic simplicity, freshness, quietness, an appreciation of imperfection). Yet, I feel that the spirit expressed in these concepts resonates within my images. It was through my work, as I struggled for 15 years to make the first image that I felt successfully conveyed the emotion I wished to share, that these ideals came to reveal themselves to me.
To compose in a minimal way, I decide what it is that I wish to convey – what is it in the scene that I want the viewer to focus their attention upon, and what emotion I want to evoke. Then, I try to minimize anything else that competes with that. The composition becomes critical – specifically how the main elements interact with any lesser elements, the horizon, the positive and negative spaces created by their placement, the edges of the frame and the tension or harmony created by the positions of everything.
When composing, I pay particular attention to the background and the edges of the frame to make sure there is nothing that there that will be a distraction. Often this means that I am not able to get a shot at all. Or, sometimes I take the shot but have to work on it in Photoshop later to get the shot I really wanted. An example of this is my shot from Northumberland, England titled “Wooley Reservoir”. When I made this shot the dirt in the foreground was strewn with dozens of small white rocks. I suppose I could have gone about picking them all up and tossing them out of the frame, but then I might have trampled the grasses. Instead, I chose to remove them digitally. The eye is always attracted to the lightest areas of an image and those white rocks were a distraction – they had to go!
Please note that when I say “main element” I do not mean “subject matter”. My subject matter is the feeling I am trying to convey. The objects in my images are simply supporting characters.
SG: What kind of things do you do when you get blocked or find it hard to create something or simply uninspired?
DF: I’ve never had the problem of being blocked. My problem is almost the opposite – I have too many projects I’d like to do! I can see each of them fully completed in my head. My problem is that I am very, very good at procrastination.
SG: Where are you currently finding your inspiration?
DF: That’s a tough question because I am inspired by so many different things – a beautiful vista, a trip to a place I’ve never been, traditional Japanese aesthetic philosophy, sexy shoes, a shop filled with beautiful objects, a friend’s artwork, a burst of creativity when decorating for a party, lying awake in bed thinking about the injustices of the world.
SG: What do you look for when you are picking subjects or models to work with? Is it a physical feature? structure? spacing? Personality? Photogenic? etc…
DF: As my images are landscapes, I am drawn to places that have a profound affect on me. I then work to communicate the essence of my experience in these places through my images.
SG: Do you bring your camera with you everywhere with you or do you leave it home when you go out on the town?
DF: I definitely leave it at home! Photographing landscapes with 60 lbs. of equipment is a very deliberate, methodical pursuit.
SG: Where has your work been seen?
DF: I have had 40 exhibitions in galleries and museums, on 3 continents, and my work has been featured in 14 publications. Please check out my website: www.davidfokos.net for details if you are interested.
SG: Where will it be seen next?
DF: My next exhibitions will be:
April 17 - July 11 at the Ordover Gallery in Solana Beach, California.
June 27 – July 11 at the Granary Gallery, West Tisbury, Massachusetts (though this gallery has a large selection of my work on permanent display).
SG: What is your dream art assignment?
DF: My dream assignment would be for someone to say, “Make whatever you like and we’ll pay you whatever you want for it. Oh, and feel free to take as much time as you like as well!“ *laugh*
Being a bit more serious, I would love to go back to Japan for a month or two to make a series of images there. Specifically, since so much of my existing work is from the island of Martha’s Vineyard, I thought it would be very interesting to explore an island in Japan, like Naoshima, for instance. I would then mount exhibitions in the U.S. and Japan featuring images from both bodies of work. I think it would make for a very interesting cross-cultural project. Now all I need is a patron to take care of the travel expenses, so if you happen to know someone…
SG: What is your favorite color?.
DF: I don’t think I have a favorite color. However, I do tend to like rich colors like a deep miso red, or olive-y greens – rich, calming colors that work well in conjunction with natural materials like stone, wood or steel with a patina.
SG: Who is your favorite photographer? And Why?
DF: Me, of course. Otherwise, I’d be making different pictures.
As for other people’s work, I like a variety. I think Robert and Shauna ParkeHarrison are brilliant. I also like the collaborative team of Kahn & Selesnick as well as David Parker’s landscapes (his first series anyway), Arnold Newman’s portraits, the landscapes of Toshio Shibata, Hiroshi Sugimoto, Michael Kenna, and Rolfe Horn, Helmut Newton’s photos, David Hockney’s photo collages, Matthew Pillsbury’s television/monitor series, and Linda Butler’s travel pictures.
SG: What book/magazine are you reading this week?
DF: I’ve been reading more magazines than books lately. This week: Wired, Dwell, and Saveur.
SG: Where is your favorite place to hang out?
DF: I like to hang out at home with my wife, though we have a few local restaurants and bars we like as well.
SG: Any final words of advice?
Here are some suggestions I often give to photographers:
1. Simplify your photo making process.
Photography is not about the equipment, so everything you can do to remove this from your process helps. I use only one lens – a 210mm Rodenstock, on my 8×10 camera. If I had more than one lens I would have to stop to choose which one to use – I would be thinking about the equipment. When you have too many choices it’s possible to be paralyzed by indecision. Ironically, giving up choice actually gives me more freedom.
Likewise, I only use Tri-X developed in HC-110. It works for me. I don’t want to be bothered with trying out every film/developer combination to come along. This way I can forget about it.
My 8×10 camera is a “drop bed” style, which is older and more rickety than modern view cameras, but I can set it up in 10 seconds. I hate having to fiddle with all the knobs and folding this down , raising this up, loosen this, tighten that, etc. I don’t want to be distracted from what it is that caught my attention.
2. Again, getting back to the paradoxical relationship between choice and freedom… I would recommend imposing some limitation on yourself. At one time, I told myself that I was only going to photographer scenes with water in them. While this may seem limiting, it was, in fact, liberating. There are good photos to be made everywhere, so, in essence, by limiting myself I gave myself permission to pass by many of those good photo ops without guilt – “Nope. Doesn’t have water.” This made me focus my work on one subject area and explore it in more depth. Which brings me to my next point….
3. Choose one subject and explore it deeply. I photographed the water for 15 years before I finally began to make images that represented how I felt.
4. Don’t worry about trends. A lot of photographers, especially art students, get caught up in the whole “I’ve got to be hip and edgy, so I think I’ll make these pictures as shocking as I can.” I think that’s just a really lame cop out from photographers who are insecure about their work.
Don’t get me wrong. If an artist has a valid reason for making shocking pictures, that’s fine, but don’t do without a good reason. (and, “I want to stand apart from the others and be noticed”., is NOT a good reason). Likewise, there is nothing wrong with “pretty” pictures. Who ever said there was too much beauty in the world? The main point is to know why you are making your photographs.
5. Show me something I haven’t seen before. VERY IMPORTANT. You should be asking yourself this question every time you make a photograph – “Is this something I haven’t seen before?”. I could go out and take pictures like Ansel Adams, but what’s the point? It doesn’t show me anything new about the world that I haven’t already seen.
Let’s say that your thing is illustrating the plight of the homeless in our cities. We have all seen many pictures of homeless people, lying on the sidewalk or in alleys, etc. So ask yourself, “How can I show this in a different light – in a way which people have not seen before?” Maybe you end up photographing the streets from the perspective of the homeless to emphasize the degradation and humiliation – down low near the concrete, or as viewed from the inside of a cardboard box looking out. Maybe you get a bunch of homeless people together to pose for “formal” group photos where the contrast with traditional formal group photos calls attention to their situation. Just do something new – and not just for the purpose of being “new”, but to give the viewer fresh insight into your subject.
6. Don’t use gimmicks. Printing so I can see the edges of the negative, using a Holga, distressing the image, selective focus, or anything when done for any reason other than it somehow serves the image and communicates your message to the viewer more clearly should be avoided. This is just a crutch used by insecure photographers who don’t think their images are strong enough to stand on their own merit. Don’t do it unless you have a valid reason.
7. Use whatever tools are available to make your image stronger. Being an artist is about using some media, in this case photography, to communicate some thought, idea or emotion. In the end you won’t always be able to stand next to your print to explain your intention to the viewer. All that you’ve got to communicate your message is this piece of paper with chemicals on it stuck to some wall. So long as you are not a documentary photographer, you should do anything you can to strengthen your image. This means cropping, masking, using Photoshop, printing on color paper, making platinum prints, adding other materials – Plexiglas, metal, paint, whatever… these are just tools, that’s all. Whatever it is, use it and don’t be an apologist.
Making “straight” prints, printed full-frame on fiber-based silver gelatin paper is not about being an artist. It is a small cult of people who have nothing better to offer than to say, “You should respect my work because they are “straight” prints, printed full-frame on fiber-based silver gelatin paper.”
8. Be your harshest critic. Edit your work ruthlessly. Show nothing but your best. Others will judge you only by what you show, not what is stashed away in your boxes of negatives. If you show only a few images, but they are all of a very high quality, people will assume that everything you do is of that quality. However, if you start throwing in weaker images, they will think, “O.K., he got lucky a few times, but overall he’s just an average photographer.”
9. Present your work professionally, and consistently. A body of work should look like a coherent body of work. All the images should be of the same subject, presented in a similar (and professional) manner. Unless there is some compelling reason, do not mix black & white with color photos. Do not have landscapes, portraits, still lifes, and abstracts all together. Do not show a box of loose prints.
I was at Fotofest once – where aspiring photographers have a chance to have their portfolio seen by the most important people in photography (major museum curators, gallery owners, magazine editors, etc.) – and I saw someone with all her prints loose in a Kodak paper box. I suggested that she might have had a better reception had her prints been matted to which she replied, “Yeah, but the mats would have gotten dirty with all those people handling them.” The curator of New York’s Museum of Modern Art was looking at her prints and she was trying to save a few bucks by showing scratched up work prints without matboard!
10. Don’t get overly attached to your process. For 15 years all my prints were platinum prints. I invested many years of research and work perfecting my process. Then one day, I realized that my images would look better on modern materials, so I switched. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Everything about your process must serve the image.
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Topics: Artist Interviews, Photography |
March 23rd, 2010 at 4:13 pm
Love your work and eye toward shooting simple images.
Thanks for the inspiration.