DRAWING LIFE by fred hatt

2011/06/13

Urban Typography

Filed under: Photography: Signs and Displays — Tags: , , , , , — fred @ 23:23

 

Unsh, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Language is meant to flow like water.  It conveys meaning through cadence and syntax, tone and undertone.  It is the river in which our minds swim and spawn and take the bait.  Fragment and blow it up and find the weirdness in it, as you would find the odd creatures in a drop of river water seen under a microscope.

Ampersand, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The English language is littered with mismatched characters and syllables and ideas, a jumbled rummage sale.

Hair, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Words on signs aren’t just signifiers, they’re physical objects that poke out, catch the light, rust, run in the rain.

Tunod Niwt, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Alphanumeric characters are wrought of our fundamental elements of form.  They become abstracted by accident, or by design.

Peace, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

All these pictures are from New York.  The city’s characteristic graphic mode is uppercase bold, and as long as a sign communicates no one has time to polish the raggedy edges.

Iquo, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Heavy fonts in all caps speak with chesty syncopation.

Clear, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Script fonts sing.  Big and bold script fonts are Broadway belters, pitching the tune to the cheap seats.

Grace, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

“Mosaic” is thought to be from the same root as “museum” and “muse”, but spelled the same way the word also means “having to do with Moses”, the Hebrew liberator and lawgiver.  Words in mosaic form look old and authoritative, even when they’re new.

OthS, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Words as signs cast shadows and coexist with all the manifestations of Nature.

Shops, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Big words are styled to give aesthetic force to what they signify, to convey qualities like whimsy, modernity, or sobriety.

Authority, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Many big signs these days are overly familiar corporate branding and generic marketing, but you still see a lot of high-spirited 20th century design.

S Broiled S, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Like the babble of voices in a crowd, words on display can get lost in the layers and dissolve into multicolored noise.

Og & Cat Fo, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Sometimes I see hidden messages in segments of words.

Land Rot, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Some words shake their booties like shameless drunks.

Rub Righteous, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Others proudly proclaim their dullness and conformity.

Building Mart, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Basking on glass, a word is projected on the underlying soft fabric.

Stones, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Choose me!  I am exotic in a fun and happy way.

Opt, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

I dare to be illegible but dashing, an arabesque in gridland.

Villency, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

We have everything you could want, and all of it is all lit up.

Neon Menu, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

In all the jumble and agita of the hard world, we offer you light and color and atmosphere.

Light, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Curvy swooping lines that sell a fantasy of elegant luxury contrast or merge with the jagged overlay of winter survivors.

Trump Palace, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Rustic and quirky means wholesome and real.

Organic, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

That’s in contrast to the traditional corporate style, respectable intimidation.

Time War, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Neon words are spelled with bent tubes of glass holding luminous gas, little labyrinths of light.

Monum, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Stone words are the traditions that stand through the centuries, defying the ephemeral.

Crucified Again, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Shiny metal is the dazzle of the technological era.

All, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

A word can be like a vine, florid and tentacular.

Primary, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Another word embodies the neatness and assertive simplicity of the modern style, even amid a jungle of decor.

Optic, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Fun can be manufactured on an industrial scale.

Thrills Whee, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Silliness and idiosyncracy can be picked up in a shop.

Parties, 2001, by Fred Hatt

We can make you think of the most intimate sensory experiences while you navigate the canyon of towers.

Smell, 2001, photo by Fred Hatt

When you come to a corner, hang a 90 and keep on trucking.

Groc Ery, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Pop art is all about abstracting icons and remixing ideas in the field of commerce.

Vote, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

It takes some patina to fulfill the classical style.

Hand, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

When the power is turned off, the word means its opposite.

Open, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Letters condensed to be readable from one angle look like broken stairsteps when seen from another angle.

School, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

In our time we are not ashamed of our desires.  They are the meaning of our lives!

Urge, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

It is all about getting and getting more and more.

Receiving, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Even when it is all eroding out from under us, we shall consume.

Fresh Donuts, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

The only alternative to satiating our desires is lashing out in our anger!

Rage, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

 

2011/05/15

Dimensions

Three Worlds, 1955, lithograph by M. C. Escher

Recently, a cluster of unrelated events have turned my thoughts to the visual perception of space.  To be honest, it’s always been a preoccupation.  For several months I’ve been using the Escher print pictured above as my computer desktop image.  It’s an elegant depiction of the world of the surface, a higher world that is seen mirrored in the surface, and a third world that is glimpsed in the depths.  This can be taken as a simple image of the beauty of transparency and reflection, or it can be related to the cosmology that is common to shamanic cultures worldwide, where the world of our everyday experience exists between and influenced by both an upper realm of celestial patterns and an underworld of earthly spirits.  Our prehistoric and ancient ancestors have left us evidence of their engagement with the upper world through their sophisticated models of the movements of heavenly bodies, and of their journeying in the lower world through caves populated with powerfully rendered animal spirits.

I’ve always been fascinated by paleolithic art, and have posted about it previously, so of course when I heard that Werner Herzog had made a documentary film about the Chauvet Cave, the oldest painted cave yet discovered, I knew this was a film I had to see.  Here’s a publicity still of the director posing with an archaeologist who appears in the film dressed in an ice age fur suit and plays a reconstruction of a 35,000 year-old vulture-bone flute (sound file at the link).

Film director Werner Herzog, cinematographer Peter Zeitlinger, and archaeologist Wulf Hein on location for the 2011 documentary Cave of Forgotten Dreams

You’ll notice that Herzog’s cinematographer, in the background, is holding a camera that has two side-by-side lenses.  That’s a 3D or stereoscopic camera.  We perceive depth partly through the way our brains process the input from two eyes offset from each other by a few inches, and 3D photography, which has been around nearly since the invention of photography, simulates depth perception by showing each of our eyes a slightly different view of the scene.

(I’ve also had a long interest in stereoscopic photography, and have posted some of my own 3D images in the posts “Shapes of Things” and “Depth Perception“, and even a 3D video in “3D or not 3D“.)

I’m not particularly fond of the current 3D digital projection processes –  there are several variants, all of which I find rob the cinematic image of much of its brightness and color, and are generally distracting and tiring to the eyes.  (Not to mention that a lot of films these days are shot normally, and then turned into fake, simulated 3D, which can look really terrible.)  But in Herzog’s film, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, the technique is effective in giving us the feeling of what it’s like to be inside the cave, and of how the artwork is integrated into the organic bulges and hollows of the limestone walls.  It’s the closest most of us will get to being able to be inside a real paleolithic painted cave.

One effect of seeing a 3D film is that it can make you more conscious of depth perception in everyday life.  But here’s something different and odd.  I went with a friend to take a look at this new sculpture, Echo, by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, that’s been installed through August 14, 2011, in Madison Square Park in Manhattan.  It’s a 44-foot (13.4 meter) tall head of a child, with eyes closed and a tranquil expression.  My friend said she couldn’t escape the illusion, when seeing the statue from a distance, that it was flat, like a cutout, and I had the same experience.  Seen from up close, it’s clearly three-dimensional, but from a distance it has an eerie, unreal quality.  It is surely an uncanny object.

Echo, 2011 sculpture by Jaume Plensa, Madison Square Park, New York City, 2011 photo by Fred Hatt

It appears that the scale of the vertical dimension is approximately double the scale of the horizontal dimensions.  Plensa uses 3D computer modeling to create his works, and here he has started from a realistic form, elongating it and softening the edges of the features.  The surface of the sculpture is cast in polyester resin and coated with white marble dust.  The reflective, almost translucent-looking whiteness, the simplicity of the forms and the serene blankness of the expression, the monumental size, and the lack of a pedestal all help to make Echo look like an eerie vision.  I believe the illusion of flatness is caused by the elongated scale.  We’re used to seeing huge flat pictures on billboards, and often from angles that distort the images in ways similar to the distortion of Echo.  When we see a huge face distorted, our minds assume that we are seeing a flat image from an oblique angle.  We are so habituated to seeing things that way that it is difficult to overcome the illusion even when we know what we are looking at.

Another eerie white object that appears flat even though we know it is round is the moon.  I came across this photo recently on the fantastic Nasa Astronomy Picture of the Day site, a bottomless fountain of beauty on the web.  If you look at this picture with cheap red-cyan 3D glasses (available free here), the moon looms out at you like the sphere it is.  Of course the moon is far too distant for the normal parallax separation of our eyes to reveal its shape through stereoscopic vision.  The picture here is constructed from shots of the moon taken two months apart.  The natural wobble, or “libration” of the moon provides two angles of view, producing a 3D image that could never be seen in reality.

3D Full Moon, 2007, red/cyan anaglyph by Laurent Laveder

Yet another recent stimulus to my thinking about the visual perception of space and depth was Daniel Maidman’s recent post about approaches to pictorial space in painting.  I urge you to click the link and go through the well-chosen example images – click on the small pictures to embiggen them.  You’ll learn a lot about the subject by reading through Daniel’s entertaining overview, and if you’re a visual artist of any kind yourself, you’ll probably also find it highly stimulative of creative ideas.  Daniel’s blog is really worth following.  He’s as good a writer as he is a painter, easy to read, funny, and thought-provoking.

Model with Unfinished Self-Portrait, date unknown, by David Hockney (featured in Daniel Maidman’s blog post “Egyptian Space”

A lot of what I learned about pictorial space I learned by studying photography.  In photography one of the biggest factors affecting the way space is presented is the choice of lens – a shorter focal length, or wide-angle lens, gives a very different effect than a longer focal length, or telephoto, lens.  Here’s a street sign photographed with a wide-angle lens.  A wide angle lens literally takes in a very broad cone of vision.  For an object to appear large in the frame, it needs to be seen from very close, while the wide field of view includes a generous swath of background.  Perspectival angling of lines is emphasized, and the apparent distance between background and foreground is exaggerated.

Sign Back, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

A slightly longer focal length lens allows us to fill the frame with a similar-sized object from a greater distance.  Here the cone of vision is narrower, and thus the amount of background we see is limited and the perspective appears compressed, with the background seemingly right behind the subject.  Many professional photographers tend to favor long lenses, because they isolate the subject from all the distracting stuff around it.  Long lenses also make it easier to throw the background out of focus, which enhances the isolating effect.

Angled Planes, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

A wide lens lets you see a whole tall building from right across the street, or to get a feeling of space within a tight interior.  Any angle that’s not straight-on will show perspectival diminution.  Translating the view below to a drawing would require three-point perspective, with vanishing points to the left, right and above the frame.

Church and Tower, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

A long lens keeps straight lines straight, but tends to flatten the space of objects seen from a distance, as in this view looking towards the Manhattan Municipal Building from Canal Street.

Downtown Cluster, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Finally we get to some figure drawing.  Aside from perspective effects, which you can sometimes observe in seeing the body from a foreshortened angle, there are several ways to convey three-dimensionality in a drawing.  I generally try to make my shading and coloring lines follow the surface contours of the subject.  These lines are called cross-contours, and they’re a very effective way to create the illusion of solidity.

Rounded Back, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Lighting effects also help to show the spatial form of a subject.  Just as the differing angles of the two eyes create the stereoscopic effect, different colors or qualities of light coming from more than one angle can give solidity to a two-dimensional depiction.

Night Back, 2011, by Fred Hatt

In the drawing below, perspective, cross-contours, lighting, and negative space are all combined to give a sense of the model as a solid presence occupying space.

Smoke, 2010, by Fred Hatt

This is probably one of the most wide-ranging posts I’ve ever done, but I hope it hangs together around the concept of spatial perception.

All the images that are not my own link back to their sources on the web if you click on the pictures.

2011/04/02

Vertical Panoramas

Filed under: Photography: Framing — Tags: , , , , — fred @ 22:38

Stairs and Skylight, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

We’ve all gotten used to the terms “landscape” and “portrait” being used to designate the orientation of a rectangular display screen, printed document, or photograph, though there’s no reason a portrait can’t be horizontal, or a landscape vertical.  I live in New York, a famously vertical city of skyscrapers, but even here most of the locals scurry around the streets like the inhabitants of Flatland, never imagining that third dimension.  In 1998 photographer Horst Hamann published a book called New York Vertical, that showed how excitingly the upward thrust of the city can be captured in a tall and narrow frame.

I believe Hamann used a 6 cm x 17 cm medium format film camera like this one (though not necessarily this brand or model).  I can’t afford one of those, so when I’ve wanted to capture a very wide or very tall view I usually just take anywhere from two to six sequential panning shots on a fairly humble digital camera, stitching them together later using computer software.  I started doing this with the Canon G1 I got back in 2001.  It came with a “stitch assist” mode that helped align such a series using the LCD viewfinder, and a program called PhotoStitch to put them together.  Today Photoshop includes a panorama merging function, and Sony has a “sweep panorama” mode where you just pan over the landscape and the camera automates the whole process.  I don’t have one of those, but I’ve had pretty good results with combining a series of photos the “old fashioned” way.

Javits Center Geometry, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

If you’re looking at these pictures on a small screen or a short wide display you may have to scroll vertically to see the whole picture.  This is actually the most natural way to look at these pictures.  They capture a larger vertical field of view than you can take in in a glance.  They represent looking at something head-on and then tilting the head to move your view upwards, or vice versa.  When you make one of these images small enough to take in the whole thing at once, it looks very distorted.  In the shots above and below, the lower part of the picture is a straight-on view with the gaze parallel to the ground, while the upper part is seen as though the head is tilted back at a severe angle.  They represent a movement of vision, not an instant of vision.

Puck Building Fire Escape, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

The picture below shows an audience on the sidewalk, watching one of the storefront window performances at the arts organization Chashama in 2002, with the newly constructed Condé Nast building towering overhead, 48 stories high.

Welcome to Chashama Land, 2002, photo by Fred Hatt

Sometimes the tilt of the view is not from horizontal to upward, but from horizontal to downward, as in this view of the stairs going into a Subway station at the south end of Central Park.

Subway Stairs, 2003, photo by Fred Hatt

Towers and stairways are not the only vertical presence in the city.  Trees are the great mediators between earth and sky.  Here are butoh dancers Moeno Wakamatsu and Celeste Hastings, performing in the 17th century graveyard of St. Marks Church in the Bowery, where Peter Stuyvesant is buried.

Celeste and Moeno at St Marks, 2006, photo by Fred Hatt

Reddish streetlights make a bare tree at dusk look like arteries and capillaries.

Vascular Tree, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Here’s a view from inside “Big Bambu” a sculptural/architectural temporary evolving installation by Mike and Doug Starn on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art last year. (An outside view of this piece is the third photo from the bottom in this post.)

Bambu Interior, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

Finally, here’s one of Manhattan’s earliest skyscrapers, the Flatiron Building, a favorite subject for photographers since the time of Stieglitz and Steichen.

Flatiron Lamppost, 2010, photo by Fred Hatt

All the photos in this post are stitched panoramas, made from multiple original shots.  See this post for a vertical panorama of the World Trade Center.

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.

2011/01/05

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!

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