My Viewfinder in Monochrome
You know, a peculiar kind of magic that happens when you first see a familiar place stripped of its colours. Last weekend, watching Gordon Willis's iconic black and white cinematography in Woody Allen's 'Manhattan' (1979), I saw New York City anew—a city I had known only in its technicolour chaos - suddenly transformed into monochromatic poetry. Thereafter, I fell down a rabbit hole of black and white cinema. Each film revealed new possibilities of what happens when you remove colour from the equation- the playful modernity of 'Frances Ha,' the profound intimacy of Alfonso Cuarón's 'Roma,' or the stark, haunting compositions of ‘Bramayugam.’ This is the same kind of magic I experience when I look at black and white(BW) pictures.
What is it about black and white that enchants, I wonder? How about we distract ourselves, move away from the coloured reality for a bit, and explore the play of these two colours - Black and White - on one of the most nuanced yet young storytelling mediums: Photography?
Imogen Cunningham, an iconic feminist photographer, beautifully frames it—"BW photography is a way of seeing that transcends the visual; it engages the imagination and evokes emotion.” BW helps us reach beyond the obvious and opens the mind to interpretation beyond the ordinary. It’s an artistic choice, perhaps, a form of freedom- from the boundaries of ‘this is what it is.’ In colour, a red dress demands to be seen as red, carrying with it all our cultural associations with that colour—passion, danger, power, marriage. But the same dress becomes a study in form, texture, and light in BW. Hence, the stripping of colours adds layers of meaning.
A masterclass in how the absence of colour distills the depth of the frame is seen by studying Henri Cartier-Bresson's work. The master of the ‘decisive moment’ chose BW as his medium to capture the pulse of Paris streets and human theater worldwide. "For me, black and white is the height of photography," he asserts, and his images—a man leaping over a puddle behind Gare Saint-Lazare, cyclists blurring past a spiral staircase, or his visual poetry of India in Full Frame—prove precisely why. Each depicts a mood and a story only monochrome could do justice to.
Rue Mouffetard, Stairs, Paris. 1932 by Henri Cartier-Bresson
Showcasing paradoxes and juxtapositions that inherently exist in monochrome, the Indian maestro, Dayanita Singh, in her BW series, ‘Go away closer’ delicately captures the multiplicity of truths in one frame- intimacy meets distance, a vacant chair speaking of both loss and anticipation, making visible the complex paradoxes that exist in our everyday emotional landscapes.
Black and white is much more than just two colours or two symbolisms. It’s a play of light, negative space, geometry/forms, and tones, which—in visual poetry—oscillate from the darkest black to the whitest white. Ansel Adam’s images of Yosemite's valleys transformed the landscape into a study in photography and the use of tones. His Zone System, which breaks down a scene's tonal range into 11 zones, with each representing a different gradation of tonal value, wasn't just technical brilliance; it was a philosophy that showed how BW photography could capture contrasts: the drama of storm clouds over the Sierra Nevada and the subtle luminance of moonrise over New Mexico. While Adams worked with grand landscapes, his philosophical approach to simplifying complex scenes through careful control of light and shadow laid the groundwork for later minimalist photographers.
Tetons by Ansel Adams
I don’t think in my quest, I came across a more poetic narrative of what minimalism in photography is. Quoting Hengki Koentjoro, the contemporary minimalist photographer, “It reminds me of Haiku, a Japanese art form of simple illustration and a simple 3 lines of poem… It affects me because it takes away the burden and stress of everyday life. It strips all the unnecessary things and just exposes the very origin of meaning in life. In minimalism, less is more.” It is interesting to note that an art movement that began to get rid of abstract expression so that art could exist in its truest form found a voice in photography. The minimalist movement in photography stands for the stark simplification of BW and a deep study of light, form, and texture, completely stripping chaos from the narrative. Michael Kenna, whose BW minimalism is about balance and compositions, plays with landscapes and atmospheric space, with exposures that sometimes are very (very) long. His pictures are meditative—by choice—perhaps something to do with his training of being in silence, discipline, and prayer. Looking at his composition of windmills makes you contemplate his poetic vision, precisely what BW tends to do—think beyond the obvious.
"Black and white are the colours of photography. To me, they symbolize the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is forever subjected" Robert Frank.
Trolley, New Orleans, from The Americans by Robert Frank
In a poetic contrast to the minimal nature of BW photography stands the testament of intimacy, the liveliness and chaotic order of streets, and the subversion or amplification of emotions that BW beautifully showcases. One of India’s earliest photojournalists, T.S.Satyan’s black and white lens was a window into the lives of everyday people. A testament to hope and humanity, Satyan’s work found joy in chaos and portrayed human emotions with authenticity and kindness. His lens captured the social-political evolution of India as well. One of his iconic images of Jawaharlal Nehru in the parliament house, using strong contrasts between light and dark/shadow to create the illusion of volume and mass, presents him as a statesman and a figure of grace and sensitivity. In stark contrast, BW portrays despair with the same gravitas and ease. Remember Raghu Rai’s ‘Burial of an Unknown Child,’ the haunting image from the Bhopal gas tragedy? The image continues to be a powerful indictment of human tragedy and corporate disaster.
Yet it's in the streets where black and white truly work its magic. In street photography, BW doesn't subtract—it reveals, turning everyday urban moments into a dance of light and shadow. Think of Fan Ho's Hong Kong streets, where the shadow becomes a character. Or take ‘The Eye of Istanbul,’ Ara Güler, the Turkish photojournalist, who interpreted Istanbul through his melancholic lens. Bringing an intimate sensibility to the image of Turkey and Turkish identity, Güler’s use of light and perspective draws an emotional correlation between cityscapes and individuals.
Every gradient of grey tells a story in motion. Leica Monochrome’s fascinating ad calls out the world of colour to be ordinary and dreamless, which factually is ridiculous but, in spirit, feels so true. In the absence of colour lies something more profound: the presence of form, raw emotion, nostalgia, the romance of light & shadow, or even the fundamental poetry of paradox in life. BW eases the noises in this filtered world; it is a rebellion against the obvious. Perhaps this is what keeps drawing both the artist and the viewer to monochrome. As Susan Sontag says, A photograph is not an opinion. Or is it?
Written by Swati Baweja
Image source: Creative Commons
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/
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