A Camera Obscura

Look well, and you'll see a curious thing about the pitcures in the Adams House Photography Festival--practically every entrant including most of the judges, was petrified by the possibility that he might take a picture exposing a live, human emotion. With few exceptions, the entries consist of still lifes of fog and mountains and trees and water and whatever other of God's wonders were available. Darkroom wonders and technical manipulations, generally leading to a sterile effect, also cluttered the walls. There were of course, some excellent examples of this type--Dean Arthur D. Trottenbergs' Groton store and Arno Szegvari's soft, low-contrast woods scene--but really, one must say that this kind of photography usually fails to show anything significant in the photographer's selection of scene and lighting. I can't find much that is exciting or worth-while about a picture of a steamer (out of focus) tied up at a dock; but I do find a great deal in longshoremen struggling with their tasks.

Despite the deadness of these entries, there is a lot of potential in some of the other works. The technical quality is quite high on the whole, and sometimes the tricks do create a pleasing effect. Especially good is Walter Krupsaw's melange of chessmen and nuclear tracks, and the quiet and lightness given to a clump of river weeds by a subtle overexposure.

However, technical quality alone can be quite sterile, as a rather large, well done and excruciatingly dull picture of the Loeb proves. What really makes the few fine pictures in the Festival is the photographer's eye for the significant and his ability to capture it. There are few finer shots than Frank Denman's Negro couple hugging in an open display of emotion or few worse than his shot of a nobody looking at nothing in particular on a stage set.

The revelation of character you get by catching an ingenuous smile of a young boy on a chair or the sad smile of a little girl surrounded by her meal--this, and not a well-handled emulsion, makes pictures.