film company gave me a batch of their new 35mm film and
said, `Create images that have to do with emotions.'
I saw the gargoyle in a shop in Boston and bought it;
then I thought about how to incorporate it into an image
that to me said `emotion.'"
Photos © 1999, Lou Jones, All Rights Reserved
About a year ago I was talking
to commercial and industrial photographer Lou Jones about the "personality"
of a photograph, and how the photographer's point of view is absolutely
necessary in order to make images that are more than merely record shots.
During the conversation Lou talked about photographs in which, he said,
"the subject matter may be quite normal, even pedestrian, but
interpreting the idea in creative, unique, or even odd ways makes for
a powerful image."
"Wait," I said, "say that again." He did, pretty
much word for word, and I wrote it down, thinking, there's a story
"In the beginning of
my career," Lou Jones says, "it wasn't as if I were
trying to do anything remotely like that--to take pictures with odd
or quirky angles, strange combinations of things, or unusual compositions.
But as my career progressed, I became less and less fond of the straight
shot of a subject and more interested in the environment of the subject.
Then a writer saw my work and said that some of it was `surreal.'
I had never looked at it that way before. `Surreal' had
always meant sort of Dali-esque--you know, molten clocks and a platypus
coming out of the sand."
in a series of photographs documenting the last year of
the Orange Line, one of the oldest of Boston's elevated
trains. "As people got off the train I photographed
them moving through this passageway at the Dudley Street
station." The only light is sunlight coming through
the red-painted window. "It's disorienting,
and at once beautiful and scary."
While there weren't literally
any melting clocks in Jones' work, there were plenty of surrealism's
odd, often unnatural juxtapositions, incongruities, and dreamlike references.
"Sometimes it was as direct as the juxtaposition of two buildings,"
Jones says, "each built in a different era; maybe that's not
quite surreal, but it was certainly quite startling. Other times it was
just that instantaneous happening, where two or more factors came together,
however briefly, in a Cartier-Bresson `decisive moment,' but
a decisive moment that revealed a very strange combination of things."
Soon Jones began looking for the odd or unusual view for both his commercial
and personal work. "I was just reacting to the power that I think
photography has that makes it different from a lot of other art forms.
It can record our environment instantaneously, capturing those fleeting
and often quite odd or poignant moments and details."
And, after a while, the odd coupling and the puzzling point of view became
a bit more deliberate; became, in fact, something of a signature. "Very
often," Jones says, "the story being told is an ambiguous
one. That's what I think art is about--investigating things and
often creating ambiguity. You're not answering questions, you're
posing new ones." Because of those questions, and the images'
ambiguities, the photographs hold our interest and reward repeated viewing.
Why, after all, are we moved to hang certain works in our homes and consign
others to the storage attic?
photographs the Church of the Sacred Heart at the top of
Mount Tibidabo in Barcelona, but the oldest amusement park
in Spain is up there, too. It's one of those juxtapositions
that reveals something familiar in a new way...and gets
you to ask questions."
But for this approach to work
in the world of commercial photography, "you've got to have
good clients," Jones says. "Most, unfortunately, tend to like
to see things they've seen before. Especially in today's economy,
they tend not to take as many chances.
"I did a photo recently for an annual report. It's the third
time I've done this company's report, and I said to the Art
Director, `I'm going to do the shot you want, then I'll
do another shot--a different way.' Since I'd worked with them
before, I'd earned his trust and had the leeway to do it. It turned
out the Art Director chose the `different' shot for the cover
of the report, but it still remains to be seen if the powers that be,
the CEO and the company's other execs, will approve."
The price of a signature becomes the necessity of producing it: when the
subject is ordinary, Jones has got to make it special. He looks for the
odd juxtaposition--"it's there, I just have to be aware enough
to find it"-- the unusual angle, or strange setting. Sometimes he'll
bring props along to help create something different. For a commercial
shoot, it can take an enormous effort, he says, to find the right props
or location--"the right road, the perfect biplane. There's
virtually no limit except the pocketbook of the client or myself. And
if a client says, `We can't afford that,' I'll
say, `Yeah, you can. If we use our imagination, we can figure out
how to do it inexpensively enough to make it affordable.'"
assignment called for Jones to shoot inside an anechoic
chamber. Used for scientific testing, the room can hold
a 747; the cones are 10' tall. Aiming for ambiguity--"I
wanted that feeling of, what is this place?"--Jones
avoided picturing the entire room and called for two cherry
Regardless of the type of photograph
being produced--commercial or personal, surreal or straightforward--Jones
reflects an attitude pros and amateurs can easily share: never settle.
Where some photographers stop at the first view, which may indeed be a
perfectly fine photograph, the really special happens when you strive
to make it happen.
For a pro photographer, that makes good business sense. "I'm
in competition with a lot of people," Jones says. "Why would
I want to do yet another handshake photo? Another photo everyone has done?
Stock agencies send out wish lists, but I don't use them, I don't
respond. They're needs, but they're not creative. Everyone
will be shooting them, and people make good money from them, but I can't
Fortunately there are plenty of things he can and will photograph--the
business and his personal vision requires it. And there's no end
of inspiration and ideas. Visual energy is everywhere. "I have friends
who are film cameramen, and I ask them, `How did you do that shot?'
I've gotten ideas and inspiration from music videos, too. I don't
hold with photographers who say they don't watch TV because it's
beneath them. They'll tell you they go to art exhibits to study
classical lighting. Fine, but there's a lot of new things happening,
exciting things we can learn."
Who knows, maybe someday there'll even be the inspiration to figure
out an interesting angle on clouds.