Burnt By the Sun

[Fig 1] Solarised image, created in Photoshop using a Curves adjustment layer

A CAPSULE HISTORY

Solarisation is one of the oldest effects applied to photographic film or prints. The simplest description is an image that ‘is wholly or partially reversed in tone. Dark areas appear light or light areas appear dark.’ [Wikipedia] This means much more than a simple inversion of an image.

On a negative, solarisation was the result of extreme overexposure in the camera: in scenic photographs, for example, the sun turns grey or black (hence solarisation, from ‘sol’, sun). An additional, distinctive effect is the white line that is laid down along sharply contrasting edges – this is called the Sabatier line.

Although the effect was seen as early as the 1840s, it is Man Ray’s photographs that are most often called to mind. He applied the effect in the darkroom rather than in-camera, and it was his assistant Lee Miller who in fact accidentally discovered the effect, when she turned on the light in the darkroom while a print was being developed.

Portraits of Lee Miller by Man Ray, c 1930

[Fig 2] Curve graph (used to create the solarised effect in Fig 1)

DIGITAL METHODS

While I remember experimenting with this technique many moons ago (pardon the pun) as a high school photography student, today it is much easier to apply the effect digitally, and with far more control. There are various approaches, starting with the default Solarisation filter in Photoshop, where you might look first. This gives you zero control. Another simple method is to set the mode of a layer to Difference or Exclusion, but a far more useful technique is to use a Curves adjustment layer, which is entirely customisable (see Fig 2). The various examples here show the differing results of the two methods. 

I much prefer the look of black and white or duotone images, finding the colour images far too gaudy and brash for my liking. However, I did manage to create a subtle version (Fig 4) using a normal colour photo at the base, duplicating that layer, and then setting it on Exclusion mode at 85%. (Check out the original image here.)

[Fig 3] This image was created using the Solarisation filter in Photoshop CS4, with a Hue/Saturation adjustment layer on top to create the dark sepia tone. Click image for larger version.[Fig 4] This image was created using a normal colour image that was duplicated, with the top layer set to Exclusion, on an opacity of 85%. Click image for larger version.

Since I always love to make ‘new’ photos look ‘old’, I’ve added an antique viewfinder complete with dust and scratches in black, using onOne’s software PhotoFrame 4.0.

Here is another example below, showing the great dissimilarities between solarisation using Curves (Fig 5) and Photoshop’s default solariastion filter (Fig 6).

Scroll to the bottom for resources.

[Fig 5] This image was solarised using adjustment layers: Black & White and Curves, with tonal values adjusted until the desired result was achieved. A sepia tone was applied over the top using a Hue/Saturation adjustment layer.
[Fig 6] This image was solarised using the default filter in Photoshop CS4, with a sepia tone applied using a Hue/Saturation adjustment layer.

RESOURCES

Read a bit about the history on Wikipedia or the University of Washington’s helpful article; view a gallery, and check out a step-by-step tutorial. (I used a single Curves adjustment layer, and did not use such a severe curve; nor did I do any dodging or burning – it is a completely subjective decision.)

Cubomania

R(apture)In recent days I was meant to enter Illustrators Australia’s annual 9x5 exhibition. In emulation of nineteenth century artists who painted on cigar boxes, each year every member is given a piece of plywood to paint, draw on, or otherwise decorate.

This year’s theme was ‘Rapture’. Now that had me flummoxed for quite a while, and by the time I thought of a concept to do with fireworks (to execute in paint and collage), I had simply run out of time.

During research for the third issue of the IA magazine Outline, I discovered the Surrealist method of collage making called ‘cubomania’, where an image is dissected into squares, then mixed up and reassembled. It’s a bit like one of those sliding tile games I had when I was a child. (There are some rather cool ones out there if you do a Google image search – here’s an amusing one to read about.)

So I thought I’d whip together one of those according to the 9x5 theme. I ended up doing two, which you can see here, with the missing square a letter from the word. Fortuitously there are exactly seven rows, just enough to spell out the word ‘rapture’ (if I was mad enough to chop up seven images and bore you with them). I’ve included the originals, one a perfume ad for Gucci Guilty, and the other for Moët & Chandon, featuring Scarlet Johansson. 

(r)A(pture)

CUBOMANIA UNCUT

British Art and Turkish Coffee

‘Hylas and the Nymphs’, by John William Waterhouse, 1896It’s afternoon coffee time, yay! On the afternoons when I work from home I make a little pot of Turkish coffee (from fresh-ground beans). For years I have been using the same Scottish-made stoneware mug that was a birthday gift from my sister Star. It is printed with the John William Waterhouse’s painting Hylas and the Nymphs.

The caption on the painting in my book The Pre-Raphaelites, by Christopher Woods (Weidenfeld and Nicolson London, 1981) reads:

Hylas was squire to Heracles, one of the Argonauts. When they stopped on the island of Cios, Hylas went off in search of water, but was lured to his death by water nymphs. This picture is now Waterhouse’s best-known work, and has become one of the key images of the femme fatale in late Victorian art. Waterhouse’s style is a uniquely personal blend of fantasy and reality, and he is one of the few Victorian artists to paint the Greek myths convincingly.

And now my coffee’s finished already, boo!

No More Coffee :: Hornbecker // DreamCanvas // No flash

Picture Show

Train Smoke, 1900Reflecting recently on memorable biopics about artists, I remembered years ago having the opportunity to see the 1974 film Edvard Munch by Peter Watkins (right). It was shown at ACMI’s Cinematheque, and I recall being absolutely enthralled watching the film.

Munch (1863–1944), the Norwegian Expressionist painter is most famous for his painting The Scream, one of the pieces in a series titled The Frieze of Life. The film covers a thirty-year period in Munch’s life, from his harrowing childhood oppressed by death and disease, to his bohemian young adulthood during which he began an obsessive affair with a married woman. In his lifetime, Munch’s avant-garde work was reviled for his unusual style (of colour and texture) and themes of death, illness and eroticism alike.

Melancholy, 1896What is fascinating about the film is the director’s documentary approach: he employs hand-held cameras, a narrator, and mostly non-professional Norwegian actors who sometimes speak directly to camera, as though being interviewed. Additionally, he deliberately chose actors who intensely disliked Munch’s work to better express the hostility of Munch’s contemporaries.

Watkins’ technique creates the delightful impression that one is watching a film of the period – which of course is impossible since film was then in its infancy. Watching it was an extraordinary experience.

Watkins’ technique creates the delightful impression that one is watching a film of the period …

I have always enjoyed Munch’s work, but gained a new appreciation for his paintings and prints when the National Gallery of Victoria International held an exhibition on him a few years ago. I particularly loved the atmospheric rolling landscapes, with their voluptuous shapes, amorphous in the dusk. His pictures of lovers embracing were also fascinating, their shapes merging together, both a metaphor and an illusion brought on by the cover of darkness. Watkins’ film only brings one closer to understanding the man who created such compelling pictures.

The Kiss, 1897

See all of Munch’s paintings at WikiPaintings, and read more about the film at Rotten Tomatoes. 

Fluffy-Cloud Wall

Tangier ViewOoooooo! Just look at that fluffy-cloud wall!

I have been sorting through thousands of holiday photos in the last week or two, and I have at last reached Tangier. As soon as I saw this photo again I thought of a lovely spring sky – much like today’s (except it’s still technically winter).

I remember walking down a street of the Tangier medina and seeing that wall ahead. It was like a bit of the sky had fallen down into the dark and dirty maze of streets, and plastered itself against the wall. In delight, I stopped to photograph it. My guide thought I was very strange: after all, it wasn’t a view – it was just a wall!

A week or so previously I had leaned out of my hostel in the Alfama district of Lisbon early one morning, and photographed the glorious summer sky. It was filled with the same storybook clouds and hundreds of wheeling, diving swallows.

How good does sunshine and a blue sky make you feel!

Click on images for larger versions.

Lisbon View