Art Photography vs Documentary Photography

Barred Owl, Hemlock Forest

Small Barn, February Fog, Squire Valleevue Farm

One of the more confounding issues afflicting the perception of photography as art has been the struggle to define, classify and categorize it. Perhaps, because of its versatility, photography has become increasingly easy to disappear down the taxonomic rabbit hole in attempts to define its place in the arts.  Its utilitarian value for documentation and commercial illustration as well as its role in fine art have become muddled, an imbrication of utility and aesthetics.  However, the issue isn’t the province solely of the photographic medium.  Before photography, painting (realism/naturalism) was often used for historical record keeping and illustration.  Few would dispute, for instance, that the early 19th century paintings of John James Audubon served two roles, as scientific documentation and illustration, as well as fine art painting - that is to say, paintings rendered with aesthetic intent and vision. At some point, however, when the separation between documentation, illustration and aesthetics becomes sufficient, there likely develops a consensus as to what constitutes fine art and what serves principally to document objects or events in the furtherance of commercial or scientific interests.

All of this is to frame a long held belief that “fine art” (painting, photography, sculpture) benefits from careful contemplation and its attendant dedication of time. Writing several years ago about the accelerating pace at which viewers pass over works in a museum , I shared a research study positing that social media had changed viewing behavior such that the time spent appreciating a museum work today is significantly less than it was in 1900.  Their finding revealed the act of viewing art on Facebook and Instagram now is being tracked at one to three seconds on average, a behavioral change occasioned in some large measure by algorithms prioritizing bright, less nuanced images that can be consumed instantly.  With respect to museum viewing, MOMA is one of several institutions that peg at 28 seconds the average time one contemplates a museum work, not much different than the time spent several generations ago.  However, the difference they concede is that now the time is more frequently spent taking selfies and rarely in deep observation.  

With the foregoing as preamble, a few days ago I decided to conduct a highly suspect, no doubt specious, experiment through Facebook in an attempt to gauge audience interest in an "art" photograph as opposed to one that was basically a "documentary" photograph.  The infinite number of interacting variables, including Facebook’s inscrutable algorithms, probably renders definitive conclusions about viewer interest and attention span relatively absurd.  Nonetheless, for anecdotal interest, a few days ago I posted what I would describe as an "art" or “fine art” photograph (see above) of a foggy, winter scene at Squire Valleevue Farm.  My own vision was to capture and portray the landscape in its subtle starkness in hopes the viewer might experience an evocative emotional moment or personal reflection. The following day I posted a photograph of a Barred owl (see above) taken that same day in a hemlock forest. As compelling, even mysterious as I have always found these birds, I would not consider this image “fine art.”  It is a nice, clear photograph documenting wildlife in its natural habitat, no doubt exhibiting some intrinsic aesthetic value, but I wouldn’t consider it art per se.  

What I find interesting is that all the variables and caveats notwithstanding, the image of the owl, posted a day later, has already generated three times as much interest on Facebook (based on number of ‘likes’) as the winter scene. The conclusion may be as simple as people find images that document or, as in the case of the owl, play upon the irresistibility of a wild animal more interesting, easy to digest or evocative than engaging the aesthetics of the landscape.  Or perhaps there is less patience or interest peering into the sublime. 

Something to ponder.

Geoff Baker