In 1912 the Italian painter, Giacomo Balla painted his locomotive dachshund in a way that heralded a movement in art that I practice today in photography—dynamism.
Balla’s student, Umberto Boccioni, had written a manifesto on futurist painting, claiming that all things run, all things are rapidly changing. He continued, “On account of the persistency of an image upon the retina, moving objects constantly multiply themselves; their form changes like rapid vibrations.”
In Sebastian Smee’s article in the Washington Post about Balla he concludes, “It reaffirms the one great thing at the heart of Italian futurism; a sense of spiritual urgency, a demand that we free ourselves to see everyday things—including dog walks—not just with a fresh eye, but also a kind of mad euphoria.”
In the following images I tried to do in photography what Balla did with a brush, what Boccioni did in his manifesto, see things. common things, in ways that the eye misses, and when successful, discover and reveal new truths.
Colorado, 2018
A fast shutter speed can freeze the action, but a slower speed captures so much more, the feeling of motion and speed, all under control of the almost frozen image of a man controlling all that appears to be spiraling out of control under him. I love this image.
Kensington, 2006. My dog isn’t as interesting as Balla’s dachshund, but the everyday act of walking a dog is apropos,as is washing the dishes, greeting a neighbor, or putting air in a tire, where the everyday, seen through the eyes of a photographer or artist is translated.
A photographer reduces three dimensions to two, then arrests the motion in one quick click. He can reintroduce dynamism by drawing out that click, and the results convey the motion and commotion of sports in new unseen ways. Nowhere is that more evident in sports like rugby or football.
In those four images the motion is everywhere. Even the ball carrier and the motorcyclist are blurred to the point of abstraction. It isn’t about any one person, but a broader statement about the activity itself.
In contrast, photographers often slow down shutter speeds while the camera is still, such as in the following image of a waterfall, where the falling water, during a shutter speed of several seconds, doesn’t look at all like water. The adjacent rocks and walls provide in their sharpness a contrast to the blur of the water. This is something else entirely different, one that I may explore in a future post.
Iceland