The Photograph and the Press by W. S. CHAPMAN

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Dec 21, 1911

The Photograph and the Press

By W. S. CHAPMAN

W. S. CHAPMAN

MAGAZINE and newspaper offices are influenced by, and governed through, certain fixed and inflexible methods, forms, and systems as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

All connected with these enterprises,—the editors-in-chief, their assistants, the contributors and writers, even the errand boys,—are amenable to these well-defined plans and systems of action. No rule can be violated with impunity by any one. Necessity created the want for these methods, forms, and systems, and forced their adoption; hence policy demands their rigid observance.

Among the many rules considered of vital importance is the one which demands that all the matter in any publication, even the most brief and most insignificant, shall “tell something,” “tell a story,”—shall present some picture to the eye or mind, particularize some occurrence, or embody some entertaining fiction; that is, contain life or action.

It is not so well understood that this rule applies to the illustrations equally as much as it does to the printed matter; hence many a meritorious photograph is declined, and many an otherwise pleasing illustration, if accepted, fails to entertain, because the rule governing the taking of photographs for the press was not understood, or not followed.

The main object in presenting a picture is more fully to impress the mind of the reader with the value of the story before him, as well as to give him material upon which he can more fully fill out the scene as he reads. The picture must be one that, in imagination, the reader can enter into as a spectator, can lose himself in the scene before his eyes, can become a part of the story the picture is telling.

To illustrate: A picture is presented of a large and costly edifice, evidently some public institution. The photographer, anxious to show the details of construction, came close to the building with his camera, and allowed the structure to monopolize all available space on his plate or film. As a mechanical piece of work, the photograph may be even more than passably good, yet it fails to create any interest, as it tells no story, does not lead the mind to fill out details by a mental association with it. Even the name and the location of the building have to be sought for by a reading of the “legend,” or inscription, given below the picture, and by a perusal of the story accompanying it.

Had the artist dropped down with his camera below the mound upon which the building stood, retreating to a proper distance, cutting down the size of the structure to one third of its former dimensions, allowing the surrounding scene to occupy the greater portion of the plate, then the eye would have abundance of material to present to the mind upon which a story could be constructed. The surroundings then would give the clue to the location of the building,—whether it was in a city, in a park, or in an isolated place; whether in a temperate zone or a ‘tropical region’; whether in a situation familiar personally or by report, or in a locality unknown to the reader.

A camp-meeting scene consisting merely of the “big tent,” its expanse of white canvas filling the entire background, with possibly a figure or two in the foreground, is most decidedly a view of “still life.” The eye can scarcely be tempted to give it a second glance.

If, however, the artist had waited for his opportunity, and, standing some distance away, had caught a leading speaker in the foreground (the large tent in the rear and of reasonable proportions), reading to members of the local conference a telegram just received containing some joyful news items,—there would be a story. As soon as the eye took in such a scene, the mind would begin to clamor for a reading of the article in order to obtain all possible details. Such an illustration would be a photograph with life and action.

Our foreign views as given in our denominational publications often sadly lack in interest, although always connected with matter of great importance. Our missionaries fail, generally, to remember that foreign scenery is unfamiliar to the people at home, and that without sufficient exhibition of the surrounding scenery, the pictures of their houses, schools, or other institutions can not be associated with their environment. If in these photographs some domestic scene connected with the life of the people, were shown there would be a story. Mentally, the reader would become at once a spectator, a part of the story. A study of the principle involved in making illustrations for our publications would materially increase public interest in their contents.