CHAPTER V.

FOCUSSING.

[Sidenote: Focussing.]

Having now seen the principles by which we must be governed, and the

apparatus required, we will briefly apply them.

[Sidenote: How to focalize.]

By focussing we understand, bringing the ground-glass into the plane

which coincides with the sharpest projection of the image; the position

of this plane varying of course according to the focal length of the

lens and the distance of the object from the lens. Presuming, then, that

the camera is in register, and set squarely before the object to be

photographed, as can be determined by the spirit-levels, let the student

proceed to focus his picture as sharply as he can _without any stop_. He

must be careful that the swing-backs are parallel to the front planes of

the camera.

[Sidenote: Mental attitude infocussing.]

Now the great habit to cultivate is to think in values and masses, that

is, you must, in your mind, by constant practice, analyze nature into

masses and values, and if you constantly practise this at the beginning,

you will find that it becomes a habit, and automatically, as you look at

a scene or a person, you will see on the ground-glass of your mind the

object translated into black and white masses, and you will notice their

relative values. This habit is absolutely necessary for artistic work,

for it is by this analysis that you will learn to know what is suitable

for pictorial art, and what is not; for if the masses and values in a

picture are not correctly expressed, nothing will ever put the picture

right. Our own experience has been that where this analysis has left an

impression of a few strong masses, the picture has always been stronger

when finished than otherwise. Now our student, having sharply focussed

his picture with open aperture, must take his head from beneath the

focussing cloth, and look steadily at his picture; fixing his eye on the

principal object in the picture, he should go through this mental

analysis, and at the same time note carefully how much detail he can

see, both in the field of direct and indirect vision; and his sole

object should be to render truly the impression thus obtained.

[Sidenote: How to “stop down.”] He should then look on the focussing

screen, and putting in his largest diaphragm, and using his swing-backs,

and altering the focussing as may be necessary, see how truly he can get

this impression, always remembering that the larger the diaphragm he

uses the better. For this reason he should always begin with an open

aperture, and work down to the smaller-sized diaphragm as needed. By

working in this way, he will soon see what marvellous power and command

he has over his translation, all by the judicious use of his focussing

screen, swing-backs, and diaphragm combined. In focussing he must

remember one thing,—never to focus so that it can be detected in the

picture where the sharper focussing ends, and the less sharp focussing

begins—as can be brought about by diaphragms. The sharpness should be

gradated gently. [Sidenote: Ground-glass picture false.] He must also

remember that the ground-glass picture is false and deceptive in its

brightness, due to obvious physical facts. This is a point of great

importance, which must not be forgotten when we are developing.

[Sidenote: Camera obscura.] The ground-glass picture, though greatly

admired by the Tramontane masters, and approved by Canaletto and Ribera,

as Count Algarotti assures us in one of his raptures on the camera

obscura, is not so natural and beautiful as it may appear from the toy

point of view,—it is not what the artist wants, any more than he wants

the pictures of an ordinary camera obscura, for if these pictures were

satisfying in an artistic sense, every one could, by erecting a camera

obscura, have the satisfaction of his desire, and there would soon be an

end to the pictorial arts, photography included; for no one who loved

this picture so dearly would want a camera to take photographs with, but

only one to look through. The deceptive luminosity of the ground-glass

picture must not be allowed to influence our normal mental analysis of

the natural scene. [Sidenote: Rule for focussing.] As we said before,

therefore, the principal object in the picture must be fairly sharp,

_just as sharp as the eye sees it, and no sharper_; but everything else,

and all other planes of the picture, must be subdued, so that the

resulting print shall give an impression to the eye as nearly identical

as possible to the impression given by the natural scene. But, at the

same time, it must be distinctly understood that so called “fuzziness”

must not be carried to the length of _destroying the structure_ of any

object, otherwise it becomes noticeable, and by attracting the eye

detracts from the general harmony, and is then just as harmful as

excessive sharpness would be. Experience has shown, that it is always

necessary to throw the principal object slightly (often only just

perceptibly) out of focus, to obtain a natural appearance, except when

there is much moisture in the air, as on a heavy mist-laden grey day,

when we have found that the principal object (out of doors) may be

focussed _quite sharply_, and yet appear natural, for the mist

scattering the light softens the contours of all objects. Nothing in

nature has a hard outline, but everything is seen against something

else, and its outlines fade gently into that something else, often so

subtilely that you cannot quite distinguish where one ends and the other

begins. In this mingled decision and indecision, this lost and found,

lies all the charm and mystery of nature. This is what the artist seeks,

and what the photographer, as a rule, strenuously avoids.

[Sidenote: Example.]

As this loss of outline increases with the greyness produced by

atmosphere, it follows that it is greater on grey days and in the

distance; and less on bright, sunshiny days. For this reason, therefore,

the student must be very careful on bright days about his focussing, for

on such days there is often no mist to assist him, but still he must

keep the _planes separate_, or he has no picture. Let us imagine an

example: A decaying wooden landing-stage stands beneath some weeping

willows at the edge of a lake. From the landing-stage a path leads

through a garden to a thatched cottage one hundred yards distant; behind

the cottage is an avenue of tall poplars. On the landing-stage stands a

beautiful sun-bronzed village girl in a plain print dress: she is

leaning against the willow and is looking dreamily at the water. We row

by on the lake, and are struck by the picture, but above all by the

dazzling native beauty of the peasant girl: our eyes are fixed on the

ruddy face and we can look at nothing else. If we are cool enough to

analyze the picture, what is it we see directly and sharply? The girl’s

beautiful head, and nothing else. We are conscious of the willow-tree,

conscious of the light dress and the decaying timbers of the

landing-stage, conscious of the cottage, away in the middle distance,

and conscious of the poplars telling blue and misty over the cottage

roof; conscious, too, are we of the water lapping round the

landing-stage;—we feel all these, but we see clearly and definitely only

the charming face. Thus it is always in nature, and thus it should be in

a picture. Let us, however, still keep to our scene, and imagine now

that the whole shifts, as does scenery on a stage; gradually the girl’s

dress and the bark and leaves of the willow grow sharp, the cottage

moves up and is quite sharp, so that the girl’s form looks cut out upon

it, the poplars in the distance are sharp, and the water closes up and

the ripples on its surface and the lilies are all sharp. And where is

the picture? Gone! The girl is there, but she is a mere patch in all the

sharp detail. Our eyes keep roving from the bark to the willow leaves

and on from the cottage thatch to the ripple on the water, _there is no

rest_, all the picture has been jammed into one plane, and all the

interest equally divided. Now this is exactly what happens when a deep

focussing lens and small diaphragms are used, the operator (for no

artist would do this) tries to make everything sharp from corner to

corner. Let the student choose a subject such as we have suggested, and

put what we have imagined into practice, and he will see the result. Yet

this “sharp” ideal is the childish view taken of nature by the

uneducated in art matters, and they call their productions true,

whereas, they are just about as artistically false as can be. For this

reason, too, it must be remembered that the foreground is not always to

be rendered sharply. If our principal object is in the middle distance,

let us say, for example, some cottages on the border of a lake; our

foreground, consisting we will suppose of aquatic plants, must be kept

down, and purposely made unimportant. This is done chiefly by the

focussing and stopping.

[Sidenote: Mrs. Cameron’s portraits.]

Among the few satisfactory portraits we have seen are, as we have

already said, those by the late Mrs. Cameron. In all of these, that

fatal sharpness has been avoided; her focussing was carefully attended

to. [Sidenote: Newton.] The well-known miniature painter, Sir W. J.

Newton, one of the first vice-presidents of the Photographic Society of

Great Britain, distinctly advised that all portraits should be thrown a

“little out of focus.” The falsity of focussing a head sharply is shown

by the fact that by doing so freckles and pimples, which are not noticed

by the eye, stand out most obtrusively, indeed a case is on record,

where an eruption of small-pox was detected in its earliest stage by the

lens, while nothing at all could be detected by the eye, though this was

but partly due to the lens. This false focussing has brought in its

train another huge falsity—retouching—of which we shall speak more fully

hereafter.

[Sidenote: Scientific diagrams.]

Sharp focussing, too, by making objects tell too strongly, throws them

out of tone, and so ruins the picture. When sharpness is obtained by

stopping down, the diaphragm cuts off light, injures normal brilliancy,

exaggerates shadows, and so throws the picture out of tone. Of course,

if the object in view is to produce a diagram for scientific purposes,

such, for instance, as photographs of flowers for a work on botany, or

of fish for a work on ichthyology, or of butterflies for a work on

entomology, the most brilliant illumination possible should be aimed at,

and the focussing should be microscopically sharp, for such works are

required to show the _structure_ as well as the form. But, above all,

the drawing should be correct, and this is obtainable only by the

correct use of lenses, which, as we have pointed out, has not always

been the case. If, on the other hand, the operator wishes to produce

_pictures_ of flowers, butterflies, fruit, fish, &c., the same rules

hold good as for any other _picture_. [Sidenote: Fantin’s flowers.] As

an example of the treatment of flowers, the student will do well to

study Mr. Fantin’s paintings of flowers. We have never yet seen flowers,

fruit, or still life artistically rendered by photography, though we

have seen some diagrams to all appearances perfect, but in which the

drawing must have been a little false. We have seen it stated by

craftsmen who have produced diagrams of microscopic and other objects,

that they were untouched (and rightly so), and that, _therefore_, these

diagrams were artistic and true to nature. Of course, from what has been

already said, it is obvious they were not necessarily true to nature

(though, perhaps, none the less useful for that), and the statement that

they were “artistic” arises of course from a total misconception as to

what that word means.

Here, then, we must quit this subject, and we hope that we have

impressed upon the student the fundamental necessity for exercising much

thought and judgment and care in focussing, stopping down, and using the

swing-backs, for these three all work together, and are quite as

important as the questions of exposure and development.

Of course there is no absolute state of “sharpest focus,” but when we

use the word “sharp” we mean the sharpest focus obtainable by any

existing photographic lens when used in the ordinary way.

Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Art. · 第 5 / 17 章