Thoughts on Taking Photographs

Many of my images, for example, relate to photojournalism. In these images I tell the story of voting in Nigerian elections or Indians threshing rice in the fields. If I am successful, viewers can observe people and situations far different from their own reality. At the same time there is a human connection made with the other and an interest sparked in their lives and activities. Other photographs I take relate to the natural world. In these I attempt to capture the beauty of the varied world in which we live. The decisions I make for this type of photography are different than those I choose for photojournalism. Indeed, the equipment I employ is different. Whereas for landscape photography I will use a full-frame DSLR camera, I often use a smaller sensor camera for photojournalism as it is less obtrusive. A large camera changes the behavior of people being photographed. A landscape’s behavior is unmoved by my large camera, however, and thus may be captured in greater detail and forethought. I can therefore, gauge the character of the light as the sun’s rays are filtered by the light and bounce off matter and into my sensor. Clouds, trees, rivers, mountains, and oceans are the stuff of this world, but the art lies in the decisions I make on how I want to capture this reality.

Apppreciating Photography

One aspect of photography I have gained a greater appreciation for is that the decisions I make reflect who I am as a photographer. When I first started taking pictures I assumed that photos are simply photos. In one sense that is true. It is also true that humans are humans, but this obscures the marvelous differences among us. As I have interacted with other photographers I have learned that I have my own interests and style and that these differ from theirs. What has been surprising to me is many times I have been in awe at the technical and artistic ability of an image made by a photographer, but that same photographer has expressed appreciation for my images. This is one of the great pleasures of photography: the better one becomes as a photographer the more one appreciates other photographers and the images they capture. One is inspired, challenged, and humbled by this process. The story told in Genesis of the creation of light and matter tells me that this awe is not new and is built in to our very being.

Artist Statement

As a Cold War baby, I was shaped by the tumult of the last half of the 20th century. Born into a world divided by ideologies and geopolitical tensions, I have navigated a path that mirrors the conflicts and complexities of that era.

My father’s humble beginnings in a working-class family led him to enlist in the U.S. Navy, seeking both escape from poverty and an opportunity to serve his country. My own journey began in London but did not end there. Movement has been my constant companion, echoing the uncertainty of the Cold War itself.

My early childhood was spent in Spain, where I absorbed the vibrant colors, language, and culture. Later, while my father was stationed in Pensacola, Florida, my fascination with photography took root. Armed with an Instamatic camera, I captured portraits of my younger sister, juxtaposing her innocence with models of military ships and planes that I set fire to and captured on film—a playful rebellion against the chaos of the world.

When I arrived at university, I formalized my interest by taking a class in photography. The lens became my tool for interpreting reality, freezing moments that held deeper meaning.

Living and working for five years in Africa as an adult exposed me to the raw edges of humanity. In Kenya, I witnessed resilience amidst adversity. South Africa, emerging from apartheid, revealed both wounds and healing. But it was Mozambique during the war years that left an indelible mark. Chaos, decay, destruction, and death surrounded me—an eerie echo of the fallen Roman Empire. Later, as an international election observer, I witnessed the fragile rebirth of nations in Nigeria’s election violence and Liberia’s post-civil war recovery.

My academic pursuits later took me to an elite university in our nation’s capital, where I earned a doctorate in international relations. Specializing in conflict management and negotiations, I sought to bring order out of chaos on a global scale.

Today, photography remains my anchor. My motto— “capturing the moment with clarity and contrast”—reflects my desire to freeze fleeting emotions, illuminate hidden narratives, and find beauty even in the darkest corners. Through my lens, I continue to explore the balance between chaos and order, conflict and resolution, and movement and stillness.

I invite viewers to journey alongside me—a witness to history, a seeker of clarity, and a storyteller of our shared human experience.

Peace,

Robert

Thoughts on the Science and Art of Photography

Photography, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “the art or process of producing images by the action of radiant energy and especially light on a sensitive surface (such as film or an optical sensor.)” Since photography is an invention, the word was also created by combining the Greek roots φωτός (phōtos) or "light" and γραφή (graphé) "drawing.” Thus, photography is "drawing with light.”

Drawing with light requires two structural elements: radiant energy and matter. In the book of Genesis (Beginnings), the Bible describes the formation of the earth with this insight clearly in mind.

1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. 3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. (NIV, Genesis 1:1-5).

In the Genesis narrative, light relates to God’s creation of the universe, of which the sun and other stars were foundational. Light is also of great scientific interest. A star, again according to Merriam-Webster, is “a self-luminous gaseous spheroidal celestial body of great mass which produces energy by means of nuclear fusion reactions.” This energy strikes earth both as energy waves and particles or photons. The energy waves vary by frequency, and the part our own eye sensor can detect is called visible light. On the Pink Floyd album cover The Dark Side of the Moon, for example, a beam of light passes through one side of a glass triangle and is dispersed on the other side into different colors, a graphic illustration of how different frequencies produce different colors depending their length. Shorter wavelengths were blue and longer ones were red.

The second element that remains to be examined is matter. Initially the earth was “formless and empty,” according to the Bible. Science, for its part, defines matter as a “material substance that occupies space, has mass, and is composed predominantly of atoms consisting of protons, neutrons, and electrons, that constitutes the observable universe, and that is interconvertible with energy.” Photography captures and records this complex interaction of energy (light) and matter, itself composed of atoms.

A permanent way to capture light’s impact on matter eluded us for thousands of years. It was not until the mid-1800s that our understanding of chemistry and optics was sufficient to invent ways to record light striking matter. Early images were crude by modern standards, but they ushered in a new era of transporting captured images of events and people thorough time and space. By the late 1900s, scientific, technological, and commercial advances fostered a shift in the “sensitive surface” from film (chemistry-based) to solid-state image sensors (electronic). This lowered the cost and difficulty of taking pictures, exponentially increasing the world’s supply of recorded images, for which demand has always been high.

The development of the sensor used to capture the light is itself a fascinating technological achievement. Of interest here is the Bayer filter that replaces the traditional chemical-based film with a digital chip arranged in a checkerboard type of pattern of red, green, and blue sensors or pixels. This chip captures incoming light arriving through the camera lens, measuring the light’s intensity and color as it falls on the pixels. These values are then interpolated mathematically to arrive at a very accurate representation of the actual image. Thus, the sensor is not an exact replica of reality, but represents a simplified reproduction of the true image. This has always made me ponder the reality behind the shadows as told in the story of Plato’s Cave. There is more, of course, to the capturing of an image. These include the aperture (opening) of the lens, the length of time the shutter is open, and the sensitivity of the sensor to capturing light (amplification).

The main point to be made here is that although there is a scientific and technical aspect to light drawing, it is nonetheless a highly subjective process that includes many assumptions and decisions on what to emphasize and what not to emphasize. This aspect of photography is more the art—expressing the image maker’s purpose. Common goals include emotional impact, creativity, composition, technique, and story-telling. Images that have captured our attention therefore make effective use of the available technology at the time, but also tell a story in a way that leads to deeper emotional engagement with the subject matter.

A Pandit

One time a number of us photographers went to Leo Carrillo beach in Malibu, California to take pictures of the sunset and beach. We scattered up and down the beach taking photographs. Afterwards, we compared the images we had captured. The photographs were similar, but slightly different. They expressed the thoughts, intentions, and training of each individual photographer. One photographer had captured a magnificent image of the beach at sunset. I was puzzled (and to be honest a bit disappointed) in that we were shooting next to one another. The key difference was his experience and the use of a special filter he placed in front of the lens. These enabled him to capture what was there but was nonetheless missed by others. I hope that my thoughts do the same for you.

This blog topic is on punditry, which sounds like a word game on puns. Punditry is a term often, but not always, used in a political context where an individual is expressing an expert opinion. The vehicle to express these expert ideas is usually the popular media. Television shows in particular often include individuals who opine on various topics. Pundits immersed in a policy issue are often called policy wonks. A more negative term for pundits is talking heads, which suggests the individual may not be that learned after all.

It is important to know the derivation of words in order to understand their meaning. The word pundit, according to Barbara and Thomas Metcalf, American scholars of India, derives from the word pandit. It was customarily used to signify respect for a wise and learned Brahman scholar. The standard for attaining this status was very high indeed. The term, via the British, became an English loan word.

I hope that my own insights compare favorably to past and present pundits in the photography profession. The goal is to bring light to a topic—bring it out of the shadows as it were—and make the shapes more readily defined. Here is where the analytical equivalent of the Contrast and Clarity sliders in Adobe Lightroom can be applied to topics to help bring out what is already in the picture. The elements are there; they are just not immediately obvious. Yes, I have my filters and biases, but at their best they illuminate and do not obscure. If the ideas and insights bring light and clarity, then it was a very good day’s work. In that spirit let the journey begin.