The Critical Analysis of a Snapshot

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WHAT MAKES A GREAT SNAPSHOT? As a general rule, many of the same things that one might use to judge any artwork fall into play. Connoisseurship in any field has its criteria. My good friend Brian loves great automobiles. If I were to ask him what makes a great automobile, I would guess him to say craftsmanship, performance, design, quality—those kind of things. Notice I didn’t say anything about cost. If I had asked him “what are the qualities of the most expensive cars in the world?” that is a different question altogether. Then, he might say something like rarity, being first. To that point, an 1898 one-off prototype of a steam-powered car (ugly, by many standards) might trump the very first Mercedes, for example. But then again, maybe not. But I have opened a can of worms here—in a field I know little about. I do know that the art—the design— of an automobile can give it immortality. Raymond Loewy’s Avanti, for example, still turns heads today if you would be fortunate enough to see one.

In the world of snapshots, or “vernacular photography” as they call it today, we have to understand the difference between the work of a trained photographer and that of an everyday snapshot shooter. We’ll call the everyday snapshot guy “Uncle Charlie.”

Uncle Charlie, who has his Brownie camera with him one day to get a few shots of his friend’s retirement party, is leaving work when sees a blimp flying overhead and remembers he still has a picture left. He thinks the sighting of a blimp unusual enough to want to record it. He tried to get directly under it but it is moving too fast. Charlie thinks: “Damn that building! If only I had a better shot! Oh, what the hell!” *Click!* When the pictures come back from the drugstore, he is probably bothered a bit by all the intrusions that came with the picture, like the pole, wire, the two buildings—but, he thinks, at least I got my picture. Mission accomplished.

Now, if the great modernist photographer Lee Friedlander happened to have been there on the same day, the last thing he would have wanted was a single shot of the belly of the blimp. Chances are he would have run to the alley and tried to get a shot similar to the one that Uncle Charlie took, which was basically by accident and default. Friedlander would have reveled in the juxtapositions of the blimp to the wire and the buildings to the blimp and seized upon that very moment. Could he have taken a better picture of that blimp on that day? Probably. But Uncle Charlie stumbled onto this great photo—in spite of himself. It is doubtful that this anonymous snapshot shooter allowed his mind to make the critical analysis that a trained photographer might have done.

So, what about that criteria? What do I look for in a great snapshot? Well, the great snapshots are absolutely rare. You have to figure that 99% of the time there is no negative, so this is all you will ever have of this particular view. What you are holding in your hand is the only existing image of this particular shot. For example, there are millions of pictures of men in hats. But only ONE like the one you see above. That makes it a one-of-a-kind. Add to that the qualities I list for you below—and you have a great photo.

When I look at a snapshot I look for the following things: (1) composition: simply, does it work as a picture? (2) tonality: does it have a full-range of values, from white to gray to black? Or, does it break this rule for something more dramatic or sublime? (3) content: what is it a picture of? Is the image unusual, with uncommon subject matter? Does it challenge me visually? Is there a surprise, something unexpected? Do I continue to see more the longer I look? (4) condition: Is the photo is good shape? Is it bent, wrinkled or damaged? Or, is it pristine?

(5) My last criteria, and this is personal to my collecting eye: does the snapshot remind me of something a great photographer might have taken? Is it a little Diane Arbus? Is it an “accidental” Weegee, Friedlander, Siskind, Steiglitz, Strand or other?

I’ll be showcasing some other snapshots from time-to-time. Thanks and stay tuned.

An AM repost from 1/15/09.

Objects of Power

(Above) Clown Babies: Custom mounted paper mache masks painted in polychrome. Manufactued by The American Mask Maufacturing Company, Finday, Ohio. 18 inches x 9 inches.

(Above) Detail

(Above) Strange Fruit: from India; Late 19th early 20th century; Redware in matt glazes of polychrome. Displayed dimensions: 5” (h) x 21-1/2” (w) x 17-1/2” (d) Sold as a set.


(Above) Detail.

(Above) Target Silhouette: c. 1940 - 1950; A live ammunition firing range “Target Silhouette” of the classic G man type; Midwest, United States; 42-1/2 (h) x 24” (w) x 3-1/4” (d)

(Above) Detail.

JOSHUA LOWENFELS HAS SOME OF THE MOST INCREDIBLE OBJECTS I have ever seen. His eye is second to none. He is the kind of guy who can go to the flea market and spot what others do not—the rare, the esoteric, the transformational object.

You can find his rare collection for sale on 1stDibs, the on-line shop for the best of the best from many different dealers—or you can visit Joshua’s on-line store here.

Gus Fink: Transformations

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GUS FINKLESTEIN IS AN ARTIST WHO, AMONG OTHER THINGS, REPURPOSES found photographs to create a new artistic image. Fink’s world of paintings, drawings and sculpture are all surreal and dark... creepy and fun.

Learn more here.

Two Snapshots of Two Objects

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WHAT QUALITIES MAKE A PHOTOGRAPH ABOVE AVERAGE? TO THAT POINT, WHAT MAKES A PHOTOGRAPH GREAT? Well, scholars and collectors have been mulling over that question for a century or so. Every time “the heads” think they have that question figured out, an artist comes along to turn that definition on it’s ear. Maybe that’s the answer then.

These two photographs I spotted on eBay are stunning examples of pictures that perhaps, and most likely, were never meant to be exceptional. More than likely they were made simply to document the objects in the photographs above. But something happened along the way in this anonymous person’s effort. They bumped into the extraordinary. Or, maybe extraordinary found them.

Photograph the new chairs and table! Easy enough. “Ah-h darn, the chairs are all leaning against the table, oh well, I’m not going down there to set them up.” Click. Done.

Or, maybe not. Did the photographer actually see the fact that the table and chairs had been arranged to now resemble a big white multi-legged bug sitting there in the diagonal shadow? Probably not. But maybe! Naa-aaaa. And that is where the fun starts in collecting vernacular photography. You, the collector becomes the photographer, a curator within a sea of bad photographs, searching for the images YOU say are worthy.

The photograph of the tent-like house is, like the table and chairs, exceptional in the presentation of iconic objects seen in a new way. With the table and chairs—they are no longer table and chairs. The photograph (from the high vantage point) has presented these utilitarian objects in such a way as to transform them. And the house—we are looking at an archetypal house shape, but there is no way in or out. No windows. No door. The covering hides the real house underneath. Or is it a house? As an image, it is simply planes of light and dark, photographed from slightly above. It is a strong image, in your face and slightly disturbing.

This is why vernacular photography is exciting. You, the viewer, have the opportunity to be the juror of the show, to award first prize to any image you think is worthy. You are the curator too, because you can select any image you think should be in your museum.

And if you do a great job in selecting the images for your “museum,” people will come.

H2O in Cast Iron

THESE WATER METER COVERS—we’ve all seen them, are in every small town and big city in America. Fabricated and cast in iron by foundry’s in every state, there is no telling how many different designs there are.

I am sure readers of this blog have stopped from time to time to marvel at the design of their big brothers—manhole covers. Think of these as “mini-versions” of such. Each are about 6-9 inches in diameter.

It’s amazing how good something looks on a well-made stand!

They were spotted some time ago at Splendid Peasant Antiques in Sheffield, Massachusetts.