What Makes a Good Photograph?

Most of us carry a camera around every day and make liberal use of it. There are surely more photos being generated now than at any time in history.

It’s obvious that the vast majority of these photos are meant for instant consumption. They aren’t expected to be great, and 99.99% of them aren’t.

Anyone who has a sincere interest in producing photographs that stand out from the crowd faces a real challenge.

So what makes a good photograph?

Maybe we can try to check a few boxes. Is the picture well composed; is it sharply focused; is it properly exposed? In other words, we might be tempted to conclude that technical quality is essential for a good photograph.

But these metrics don’t tell the whole story. On one extreme, Ansel Adams is known for technically perfect photographs. But, for every technical purist, there is a photographer who is more intuitive. Think of Robert Capa’s iconic photos from the Normandy beaches on D-Day. They aren’t perfect, but no one could deny they are iconic photographs.

If a photograph has emotional impact, then we will likely be willing to overlook any technical flaws.

One of my favourite bloggers, the late Tim Vanderweert, wrote a number of pieces on aesthetics. I went back and read some of the excellent pieces on his Leicaphilia website. Tim had the breadth of understanding of philosophical concepts that let him dig into the works of Leibniz, Hume and Kant, in order to try to explain the foundations of what we perceive as beauty.

The essence of Tim’s observations, which I’ve significantly simplified for my purpose, is that aesthetic judgements are neither objective nor subjective. (Only Tim could make the connection between the classical philosophers and our modern perceptions of art in general, and photography in particular. I’m glad he did.)

Even if they don’t resolve the question, these concepts help explain why one person’s sense of what makes a good picture is different from others.

I’ve learned a few things when it comes to photography. First, I have to trust my instincts. I look around constantly. I try to be ready in case a scene develops in front of me. And most importantly, if a scene attracts my attention, I reach for a camera. This hastily taken photograph in Calgary’s Masters Gallery is an example. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do more than guess at my settings. The result is far from perfect technically, but I think it works.

Second, I’ve learned to make my best effort to get the technical bits right, then do a careful job of editing until I like what I see. Maybe it’s colour, form, a humorous scene on the street, an interesting cloud formation, or something else. Maybe I shot the picture on film or on my phone. Maybe I have to crop the original to highlight what I saw. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was that made me take the picture, select it from among all the others, and then labour over it in Lightroom is probably worth seeing to a conclusion.

Third, I’m getting used to not seeing much of a reaction from Instagram, probably because most users on that platform (for reasons unknown) are more interested in pictures of my lunch. And that’s okay too. It’s just that I don’t usually see any merit in taking pictures of my food when there’s so much more out there.

I guess I didn’t answer the question. But at least it’s fun to keep exploring.