DRAWING LIFE by fred hatt

2011/02/03

Finding Beauty in Filthy Snow

Nocturnal Snowscape, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

It’s been a record-breaking season for snowfall this winter in the Northeastern United States – 56 inches (142 cm) so far in New York.  We’ve had snow every week for the past six weeks, sometimes massive dumpings.  Last week’s epic blizzard mostly spared NYC, but covered more than half of the country – check out a satellite photo, and read accounts of drivers taken by surprise and trapped for hours on Chicago’s Lake Shore Drive, a major highway at the heart of the city.  Snowfall has been heavier than usual across the northern hemisphere, and many warmer areas have experienced heavy rainfall and flash flooding.  Climate scientists tell us the increased cold weather and precipitation in the temperate latitudes is related to the collapse of a “polar vortex” that used to keep frigid air confined to the arctic regions, and this may be related to the melting of arctic sea ice and global climate change.  Of course, a freakishly snowy winter can happen at any time, due to the inherently chaotic nature of weather patterns, but it is also possible that what we are experiencing this winter will become the “new normal”.  If so, we’d better learn to appreciate it!

Of course pristine white snow in the countryside is one of nature’s magnificent spectacles, something nearly everyone finds beautiful.  Snow in the city is a more conflicted phenomenon.  It’s a barrier, a nuisance and a hazard, and it quickly becomes a magnet for all the city’s filth.  But I love observing the forces of nature in an urban setting, and snow is fascinating because it presents so many different forms and changes over a short time span.  Look how it swirls in the golden light of a sodium vapor parking lot lamp.

Snowflake Traces, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

On a sunny morning after a heavy snowfall, parked cars are gently rolling mounds like dunes of white sand.

Snow Dune Van, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The contours of a pink kiddie-ride horse are softened and abstracted like an unfinished marble carving.

White Horse, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The bare branches of trees are etched against the background in black and white.

Snowy Branches, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

It’s a linear feast.

Wires and Branches, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

On my block in Brooklyn, cars were thoroughly buried, as the city snowplows piled the snow against them from the street side, while the sidewalks were cleaned with a snow blower that plastered the cars from the house side.  New York has good public transportation, so after a big snowfall many people leave their vehicles interred for many days or weeks.

Great Wall of Snow and Cars, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Crossing the street may involve clambering over giant mounds of snow or trudging through piles churned up by the plows.

Ahead of the Plow, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

When some of the snow melts, many crosswalks are reached only by leaping across or wading through ankle-deep lakes of slush.

Slush to Ford, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

There should be a word for the hybrid of snow and mud that coats the streets after the snowplows make the rounds.

Sloppy Crosswalk, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Kids of course love snow.  So do dogs – at least those with long enough legs to keep their bellies out of the mess.  Lots of people are inspired to play and get creative.  This is a giant snow monster, taller than a person, that I saw in Tompkins Square Park.

Tompkins Square Snow Monster, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow in the city actually makes nighttime photography easier, as long as you can keep the wet stuff off your lens.  The snow reflects all the light that the dark pavement normally absorbs, making even the darker parts of the city as bright as only Times Square would be under normal conditions.

Pour House in Winter, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Street lights coming from behind a mound of snow highlight the rocky texture of its edge.

Plowed In, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Bicycles frame the colors of the multiple light sources in circles and triangles.

Bike Rack in Snow, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The shadow this buried bike casts on the show is tinted green by the light of a nearby neon sign.

Buried Bike, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

The whiteness of snow magically intensifies the effects of colored shadows and of lights of different hues falling from different directions.

Shadows on Snow, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

Ice and the damp crystallized sheen that covers the streets reflect the colors of green and red traffic signals, against the snow illuminated by amber street lighting.

Traffic Signals Reflected on Cobblestones, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

This pile of snow is filthy and jagged, and it’s blocking passage to the street and taking up a parking spot.  But look how it catches the colored lights around it.  It’s a glittering gem!

Neon Snow Pile, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

When rain follows snow, the snow is covered by a glistening icy crust.

Icy Crust, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

When there’s been a really big blizzard, certain dirty mounds survive long after most of the snow is gone.  With a core of solid ice, condensed and insulated by an outer coating of diesel scum and general street dust, these icebergs can last well into the early spring.

Tip of the Iceberg, 2011, photo by Fred Hatt

All of the photos in this post were taken in January or February of 2011.  I did a post about urban snow last year too – check it out.

2011/01/12

Mixing in the Eye

Alley, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Most contemporary technologies of color image reproduction use optical mixing to obtain a full range of colors.  Four-color process printing, CRT, LCD and plasma displays, all reproduce a wide gamut of hues and values using tiny dots of ink or luminous pixels in just three or four colors.  The colors remain discrete in the image, and are only blended in the eye.  The illustration below shows a detail of a printed color picture, with inks of cyan, magenta, yellow and black in dots of variable size.  A color monitor performs a similar trick with glowing red, green and blue dots of variable brightness.

Image printed in four-color process, with detail showing halftone dots

The old masters who developed the craft of pictorial oil painting did not, as far as I know, ever consciously use the phenomenon of optical color mixing.  Most of them used some variation of the technique of grisaille, or painting in black and white (or sometimes in greens or earth tones), then adding color by applying thin transparent glazes over this monochrome foundation.  Jan Van Eyck is often considered the first master of this technique, and it’s still commonly used by painters who follow the classical methods.  Here are two versions of a painting by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, the first version in grisaille, and the second with color glazes applied.

Odalisque in Grisaille, 1824-34, by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres

Grande Odalisque, 1814, by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres

The great virtue of this method is to achieve a feeling of solidity and luminosity.  The grisaille painting allows for a sculptural rendition of values, and the white of the grisaille reflects all wavelengths of light, which are then subtly filtered by the glazes.  Light penetrates the transparent surface layer of the painting and reflects back to us from a deeper level, tinged as the setting sun or the distant mountain are tinged by the intervening atmosphere.

Directly mixing pigments on the palette or on the canvas, on the other hand, tends to give dull and flat colors.  Every opaque blend of two pigments has less brightness and less intensity of color than either of its components.  The natural mineral pigments available to painters before the industrial revolution were extremely limited, so the glazing technique was often the only way to achieve color that was both vivid and subtle in its gradations.

In the nineteenth century, several technological innovations led to a completely new approach to color in painting.  Photography quickly surpassed the painters in its ability to render monochromatic values.  This made painters strive to reproduce the more vibrant effects of color that photography still could not capture.  Modern industrial chemistry discovered new synthetic pigments that were both permanent and far more vivid than the classical artists’ pigments.  All those paints with chemical sounding names like alizarin and phthalocyanine are products of the new chemistry.  Pre-mixed paints in squeezable metal tubes were yet another nineteenth century development that made it much easier for an artist to leave the studio and study the colors of nature and the effects of light outdoors, or en plein air.

French Impressionism was the product of all these changes.  The old methods started to seem stodgy and lacking in spontaneity, and in any case were unsuited to plein air painting.  You can observe optical color mixing effects starting from the beginnings of the impressionist movement, as in this Renoir painting.

Bal au Moulin de la Galette, 1876, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

In the detail below, you can see that the clothing and shadows on the ground are painted with various bright colors in close proximity, colors that do not correspond with the actual surface colors of the objects being depicted.  The overall impression of the colors in the painting is vibrant but not unnatural.

Bal au Moulin de la Galette, 1876, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, detail

Monet painted haystacks in a field and the facade of Rouen Cathedral over and over again, trying to capture the ever-changing subtleties of light and air.  [Both links in the preceding sentence are well worth a click!]  Here the haystack contains dabs of red, olive, lavender, violet and black.

Grainstack (Sunset), 1890-91, by Claude Monet

Artists such as Edgar Degas and Mary Cassatt used optical mixes of odd colors like greens and purples to depict flesh tones.

Lydia Leaning on her Arms, Seated in a Loge, 1879, by Mary Cassatt

George Seurat studied the science of color perception, and developed an analytical approach to painting with optically mixing colors.  He called his method chromoluminarism, though it’s better known today as pointillism, a word originally coined by critics.  Here’s one of his mural-scale canvases, followed by a detail of a face in profile, showing the discrete dots of color.

La Parade du Cirque (Invitation to the Sideshow), 1889, by George Seurat

La Parade du Cirque (Invitation to the Sideshow), 1889, by George Seurat, detail

What Seurat does with analytical coolness, Vincent van Gogh does with fiery intensity.

Sower with Setting Sun, 1888, by Vincent van Gogh

Optical mixing of colors also interested abstract expressionists such as Joan Mitchell.

Weeds, 1976, by Joan Mitchell

Chuck Close is the heir to Seurat’s analytical approach, as in this monumental self-portrait.

Self Portrait, 1997, by Chuck Close

Self Portrait, 1997, by Chuck Close, detail

For my own work in color, I usually use aquarelle crayons on toothy charcoal paper.  The crayons deposit bits of pigmented wax on the ridges of the paper.  Going over an area with more than one color leaves the markings separate, and the colors mix optically.  Here’s a detail of the portrait of Alley featured at the top of this post.  You can see that the flesh tones are made up of strokes of blue gray, pink, yellow, light blue, reddish brown and white, on a neutral gray paper.  The technique is particularly effective at depicting reflected light in shadow areas.

Alley, 2009, by Fred Hatt, detail

Here’s a quicker figure sketch, followed by an enlarged detail.  Here the colors making up the flesh tones include turquoise, orange, fuschia, and yellow.

Maira Horizontal, 2010, by Fred Hatt

Maira Horizontal, 2010, by Fred Hatt, detail

Mixing colors in the eye, rather than on the palette, produces color impressions that are bright and shimmery, that suggest not only the effects of light but the slippery nature of flesh tones.  The actual colors of living human skin are subtle to the point of elusiveness.  Skin is translucent, imbued with underlying colors of blood and fat.  Its surface is nearly iridescent, and reflects and refracts the colors of surrounding objects and lights.  Flat colors cannot capture this subtlety.  Grisaille and glazing can, and so can optical mixing, in a very different way.

All the images in this post, besides those of my own work, were found on the web.  Clicking on the pictures will take you to their source pages, and in many cases, to larger versions of the images.

2011/01/05

12 Months

Filed under: Photography: The Seasons — Tags: , , , , , — fred @ 00:50

Slick Sidewalks, January, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Here we take a look back at 2010 in the landscape of New York City, with one photo from each month.  I often keep a camera with me as I walk around the city, and photograph scenes and patterns and effects of the light that catch my eye, like the rainy reflections above, or the illusion of a face in a mound of plowed snow, below.

God of Dirty Snow, February, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Road Plate, March, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Metallic gray is warmed by the brown of rust or the pink of spring blossoms.

Petaled Accord, April, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Deepwater Demon, May, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Sunset Shorts, June, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The Summer is about relaxing outdoors.  Streetlights through leaves make an urban park at night an impressionist fantasy.

Bryant Park at Night, July, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Signals, August, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The chaos of signs, patterns and colors embodies the energy of the city.

Sign Painter, September, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Shadowscreen, October, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Autumn in New York is a long, lingering season of mild weather and gentle brightness.

S Curve, November, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Wall Sheen, December, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

All of these pictures were made with a Canon G11, casual shots of scenes glimpsed as I made my quotidian peregrinations of jobs and errands in Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens.  I have selected one photo out of all those made in each month of 2010.  Happy 2011!

2010/11/06

Magic Squares

Filed under: Photography: Framing — Tags: , , , , , — fred @ 01:30

Sunset Construction Shed, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

A lot of writing about proportions and composition focuses on the golden ratio or phi.  Relationships based on phi appear everywhere you look in natural forms and cycles.  Artists, architects and designers frequently use the golden rectangle based on this ratio, and it’s often considered the most beautiful of all rectangles.  But it could be argued that the square is an even more harmonious quadrangular shape, and its perfect evenness has very special compositional qualities.

The 6 x 6 cm square film format became popular for magazine photography partly because square images could be cropped to either vertical or horizontal rectangles by the editor, but photographers often found that the square frame facilitated particularly bold arrangements of their subject matter.  Designers discovered the special qualities of the square frame in creating sleeves for LP records, leading to some of the most iconic graphic designs of the last century.

Here I share a selection of my images of New York City from the past decade, selected as examples of square compositions.  I don’t have a square format camera, but I find that many of my photographs are improved by cropping, and the square crop is one I frequently consider.  A criterion for choosing images for this post is that I don’t think any of these images would work as well with a vertical or horizontal frame.

The top photo in this post is a perspective through the roughly square corridor of a construction shed.  The setting sun casts long diagonal shadows of the scaffold columns, and those diagonals are countered by the thicker shape of an inclined tree trunk.  The square frame really highlights the contrast of vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines.  Here’s another example:

Oblique Light, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

A square crop can break down a unified design into an arrangement of shapes and lines.

Automotive Shapes, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

A beautiful three dimensional shape, compressed into two dimensions and framed in a square, becomes somehow even more abstractly sensuous.

Steel Helix, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

This classic bit of architecture (The Enid A. Haupt Conservatory at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx) is designed with golden ratio proportions, but a square frame really flatters it:

White Dome, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

This view from a Brooklyn rooftop shows the special properties of the square picture.  A wide image would be a panorama, focused on the horizon, and a tall image would emphasize the height of the vantage point.  The square equalizes the vertical and the horizontal, and thus shows height and depth in equilibrium.

Brooklyn Crepuscule, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

In a square frame, what is centered is idealized and what is off center is dynamic.

Heaven and Earth, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Straight lines and organic forms complement each other in perfect tension within the square.

Diagonals, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Dark and light, rounded and rectangular, perpendicular and angular: Simple polarities of form spring into relief in the balanced space of the square frame.

Urban Sundown, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Straight lines make quadrilaterals and triangles within the square, and curved forms break the rigidity.

Street Fair Decorations, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The simplest contrasts reveal their full complexity in the square.

Piece of Gold, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

The perfect regularity and abstraction of the square can be an ideal frame for the fractal chaos of natural forms.  Any other rectangle partakes of a bit of chaos itself, but a square remains rigorously neutral.

Rainy Berries, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The square’s geometrical balance can also highlight the gestural quality of a figure or sculpture.

Command, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Sculptural Hands, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The converging lines of perspective take on a special quality in a square frame, where verticals, horizontals, and  diagonals exist in egalitarian relationship.

Subway Perspective, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Fence Growth, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Perspective compositions are made even more interesting by the addition of curves or random angles.

Cast Iron, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Barriers, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The elements of a square picture rest in balanced relation to all their companion elements.

Flushing Meadows Globe, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Perfect symmetry is actually heightened by slight elements of asymmetry.   The harmonious square frame magnifies both qualities.

Church Garden, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Stone Yard, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

A square is naturally divided into rectangles and other shapes, a la Mondrian.

Drawer Pull Display, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Eighth Avenue, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Leaning or angular shapes have a certain natural dynamism based on their contrast with rectilinear forms.  The square composition gives these shapes their full measure of potential energy.

Angular Structure, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

In a square image, a living element can be a point of active concentration, seen off center in relation to a more abstract, more chaotic space, illustrating the tension inherent in the relation of the living being to the natural world.

Fountain Joy, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Snow Mound, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Wet Asphalt, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Plywood's Red Glare, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Expressions of style can be abstracted from their complex personal and cultural manifestations, to be observed in their purely formal aspects.

Mosaic, 2005, , photo by Fred Hatt

Instruments and Shoes, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Just as fractal mathematics shows the rational order underlying complexity, the square frame in photography puts the unbalanced world, snarled, tangled and scattered, into a context of perfect equilibrium, illuminating the logic of chaos.

Linear Arrangement in Streetlight, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Composition in Gray, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Spilt, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

2010/08/24

The Landscape in Motion

Filed under: Video: Natural Phenomena — Tags: , , — fred @ 07:54

August from Fred Hatt on Vimeo.

Click on the video to watch in HD on Vimeo.

I spent last week visiting my brother in Western Massachusetts.  He lives in a rural area surrounded by forests and wetlands.  I was struck by the sound environment there.  Far from highways and flight paths, it was clean of the technological noises that are constant in my usual urban setting, but it was hardly quiet.  With my eyes closed I could hear the densely woven tapestry of sound surrounding me in omnidirectional space:  crickets and cicadas, birds and bees and frogs, and the constant burbling of a stream, shallow from the late summer drought.

Still from "August", 2010, video by Fred Hatt

I wanted to take a sample of this sound to bring with me to the city.  The only audio recording device I had with me was a small camcorder with a reasonably good microphone, but no tripod.  So I set the camcorder down on various flat rocks and let it run for two or three minutes each in a variety of locations.  In the bright sunlight I could hardly see what kind of images I was recording.

When I had the chance to play back my recordings, I was struck by the images I had captured, almost without thinking of it.  The view of the natural environment was intimate, up close and from ground level, a frog’s eye view.  Every scene was filled with motion, the constant fluctuation of wind, light, water, and life in all its forms.  It was a beautiful portrait of teeming Gaia in late summer, simultaneously harmonious and chaotic, serene and tempestuous.

Still from "August", 2010, video by Fred Hatt

The five minute edit presented here is a landscape picture in sound and motion.  There are no characters, no events, no ideas.  This absolutely minimal way of using video highlights its richness as a medium for capturing the texture and energy of the natural world, a little love letter to Mother Earth in the technology of our time.  Watch it in HD, and with headphones if possible.

For another of my experiments in minimalist video, depicting a different setting and season, see “November”.

« Newer PostsOlder Posts »

Powered by WordPress

Theme Tweaker by Unreal